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A  Strange  Pilgrimage. 


A  NOVEL. 


BY  MRS.  J.  H.  WAL WORTH, 


Anther  of 


'True  to  Herself,"  "The  Bar  Sinister,"   "The  New  Man  at   Rossmere,' 
"Without  Blemish,"  "Old  Fulkerson's  Clerk,"  etc.,  etc. 


NEW   YORK: 
A.  L.  BURT,  PUBLISHER. 


COPYRIGHT  1888,  BY  A.  L.  BURT. 


ANNEX 


wng.5 

1388 
A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A    FATAL     PROCRASTINATION. 

MRS.  MIRWIN,  of  No.  —  Spruce  Street,  Phila 
delphia,  kept  rooms  for  ''gentlemen  only." 
In  the  morning,  when,  after  breakfast — a  meal  some 
what  diffusive  in  point  of  time — all  the  great-coats 
and  hats  disappeared  from  the  rack  in  the  hall,  her 
soul  reveled  in  the  soothing  reflection  that  the  house 
was  absolutely  and  exclusively  her  own  until  five 
o'clock  should  brimr  the  very  earliest  of  her  lodgers 

*/  o 

home  to  dinner.  She  quite  plumed  herself  upon  the 
success  of  the  placard  that  had  been  the  means  of 
halting  every  petticoated  room-hunter  out  there  on 
the  sidewalk,  sending  them  away  with  disgusted  disap 
pointment  visibly  outlined  on  their  countenances. 

Not  that  Mrs.  Mirwin's  for  "  gentlemen  only  "  in 
dicated  an  inferior  class  of  stopping-place.  On  the 
contrary,  it  was  because  of  its  unexceptionable  loca 
tion  ;  its  outside  suggestions  of  indoor  elegance  ;  its 
tantalizing  glimpses  of  jars  and  plaques,  and  things 
that  women  only  could  appreciate,  that  the  tabooed 


0  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

sex  turned  away,  with  such  a  sense  of  personal  in 
jury,  from  the  doors  that  were  sealed  to  them.  That 
rude  placard  was  a  block  of  stumbling  and  an  of 
fence  to  them.  As  if,  they  bitterly  argued,  there 
could  be  any  conceivable  spot  on  earth  that  woman 
could  not  fill  more  satisfactorily  than  men. 

Mrs.  Mirwin's  own  explanation  of  her  partiality 
for  the  male  sex  bore  hardly  upon  her  sisters :  "  She 
had  not  been  starving  at  boarding-house  keeping  for 
sixteen  years  without  learning  something,  and  if 
ever  she  did  open  her  doors  to  a  lot  of  women,  who 
didn't  have  a  blessed  thing  to  do  but  to  gossip  about 
each  other  and  back-bite  her,  she  hoped  some  kind 
friend  would  get  out  a  certificate  of  lunacy  and 
have  her  confined  as  incompetent  to  care  for 
herself."  There  was  another  thing :  "  Men  never 
came  down  from  her  best  first-floor  front,  in  seal 
skin  jackets,  to  make  a  row  about  the  price  of  coal 
and  insist  upon  having  fifty  cents  struck  from  their 
bills.  "Women  loved  to  baggie ;  men  didn't." 

But  the  illuminated  vision  of  a  house  full  of  men, 
who  neither  gossiped  about  each  other,  nor  grumbled 
over  their  food,  nor  haggled  about  prices,  but 
promptly  effaced  themselves  immediately  after 
breakfast,  had  its  obverse  side,  as  all  illuminations 
have.  And  as  the  obverse  was  usually  shown  about 
the  time  that  Mrs.  Mirwin,  weary  and  worn  with 
her  day's  exertions  in  behalf  of  omnivorous  feeders, 
most  devoutly  desired,  in  her  turn,  to  efface  herself, 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  7 

it  bore  somewhat  hardly  upon  her,  and  forced  her 
to  acknowledge  that  there  was  something  to  be  said 
in  favor  of  women,  after  all. 

If  she  could  have  filled  her  rooms  with  a  lot  of 
sublunary  angels  in  trowsers,  who  would  have  gone 
as  promptly  to  bed  after  their  six  o'clock  dinners  as 
they  did  to  their  offices  after  an  eight  o'clock  break 
fast,  Mrs.  Mirwin's  idyllic  dream  of  carrying  on  a 
boarding-house  painlessly  might  have  been  realized. 
As  it  was — 

"Well,,  as  it  was,  Mrs.  Mirwin  looked  at  her  clock 
and  yawned.  She  had  been  looking  at  her  clock 
and  yawning,  alternately,  for  four  mortal  hours ; 
that  is,  from  seven  o'clock  P.  M.  until  eleven  o'clock 
p.  M.,  without  extracting  either  comment  or  sympa 
thy  from  any  one  but  herself,  for  the  sufficient  rea 
son  that  she  was  entirely  alone  in  the  gloomy  mid 
dle-room,  that  was  sandwiched  between  the  front 
parlor  and  the  "  back  extension." 

This  middle-room,  being  windowless  and  stuffy, 
Mrs.  Mirwin,  for  economic  reasons,  retained  it  for 
her  own  boudoir. 

On  the  evening  in  question  nature  occasionally  so 
far  asserted  herself  as  to  cause  Mrs.  Mirwin's 
weary  head  to  drop  on  her  plump  bosom  in  unrest- 
ful  slumber,  and  to  extort  from  the  poor  lady's  nos 
trils  an  audible  protest  against  this  rending  of  the 
hours  of  repose  from  their  legitimate  use.  But  these 
periods  of  semi-unconsciousness  were  brief,  and 


8  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

always  terminated  in  Mrs.  Mirwin's  sitting  rigidly  up 
right  in  her  chair,  after  casting  a  look  of  bitter  re 
proach  up  at  the  ceiling  over  her  head,  through 
which  descended  the  muffled  sound  of  several  pairs 
of  restless  feet — a  heartless  sort  of  shuffling,  quite 
as  if  the  owners  of  half  a  dozen  pairs  of  shoes  were 
bent  upon  trampling  on  propriety  and  on  Mrs.  Mir- 
win's  feelings  at  one  and  the  same  time. 

"  They  surely  are  making  a  night  of  it,"  said  that 
weary  lady,  punctuating  her  sentence  with  yawns, 
and  wiping  the  tears  extracted  thereby  from  her 
drowsy  eyes  with  the  woolly  surface  of  an  unfinished 
afghan  she  carried  about  with  her,  as  a  sort  of  port 
able  advertisement  of  her  own  tireless  energy. 
"Maybe,  if  they  had  to  pay  the  gas  bills,  they 
wouldn't  be  so  spry  near  on  to  midnight.  If  I  left 
it  to  that  creature  down  stairs,  we'd  all  be  asphyxi 
ated  before  morning.  I  suppose  I've  got  to  set  it 
out  if  it  lasts  all  night.  Mercy !  There  ain't  no 
more  of  them  to  come  at  this  hour  of  night !" 

This  latter  clause,  ejaculated  in  an  intensely  wide 
awake  voice,  Avas  occasioned  by  a  sharp  pull  at  the 
front  door-gong,  which  sounded  preternaturallv 
harsh  at  that  still  hour  of  the  night.  Mrs.  Mirwin 
transferred  herself  from  the  depths  of  her  easy- 
chair  to  the  door  of  her  stuffy  apartment  with  r.s- 
tonishing  celerity,  avoirdupois  and  previous  condi 
tion  considered. 

Henry,  the  waiter,  alluded  to  above  as  "  that  crea- 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  9 

ture,"  emerged  from  the  lower  hall  just  as  Mrs.  Mir 
win  emerged  from  her  den.  The  towzled  condition 
of  his  head,  and  the  dissolute  look  of  his  neck-tie, 
suggested  surreptitious  slumbers.  He  shuffled  to 
ward  the  front  door  with  a  general  air  of  disgust 

O  o 

pervading  his  person. 

"  How  many  of  'em's  up  there  now,  Henry  ?"  the 
disgusted  landlady  asked  of  her  disgusted  servitor. 

"  Four !" 

Henry  was  laconic.  The  man  at  the  gong  was 
impatient.  He  rang  a  second  time  during  that  brief 
colloquy,  a  proceeding  which  had  the  effect  of  mak 
ing  Henry  drag  his  slippered  feet  yet  a  little  more 
deliberately  toward  the  vestibule. 

"  I  guess  you'll  git  in  when  I  open  the  door,  and 
no  sooner.  I  ain't  used  to  settin'up  all  night,  and  I 
don't  care  to  git  used  to  it,  neither." 

"  All  night !"  Mrs.  Mirwin  veered  mendaciously. 
"It's  only  a  few  minutes  past  eleven.  You  are  a 
regular  sleepy-head.  If  I  don't  mind  it  why  should 
you  V 

But  the  door  was  open  by  that  time,  and  the  uni 
form  of  a  telegraph  messenger  gleamed  out  of  the 
dark  vestibule.  A  telegram  and  a  book  were  thrust 
into  Henry's  face— "For  Mr.  Archibald  Murray; 
sign  there." 

Henry  "  signed  there,"  and  once  more  consigned 
the  uniformed  messenger  to  outer  darkness.  Mrs. 
Mirwin  advanced  as  far  as  the  hall-lamp  and 


10  A  8TRANGK  ri 

promptly  possessed  herself  of  the  dingy  envelope. 
There  is  an  ineradicable  sense  of  excitement  associ 
ated  with  a  telegram,  greater  then  than  now,  for 
the  date  of  that  telegram  and  of  Mrs.  Mir  win's 
perturbation  was  before  the  war,  when  telegrams 
were  not  the  commercial  things,  of  course,  they  have 
become  since. 

"  For  Mr.  Murray !  And  a  night  message  at  that ! 
Poor  dear,  young  man !" 

"  Night  messages  is  half  rates,"  Henry  suggested 
practically,  waiting  with  impersonal  patience  to  have 
the  telegram  handed  back. 

"  That's  true.  Guess  it's  not  so  dreadful,  after  all. 
Take  it  up  at  once,  Henry.  Maybe  it  will  start 
them  anyhow." 

Having  extracted  all  the  satisfaction  possible  from 
a  repeated  perusal  of  Mr.  Murray's  name  on  the 
back  of  the  sealed  envelope,  she  handed  it  back  to 
Henry,  who  proceeded  immediately  up-stairs  with  it. 
She  was  prepared  to  draw  on  her  sympathies  at 
sight  to  any  reasonable  extent.  She  remained  in  the 
hall  below  in  a  condition  of  keen  alertness.  In  case 
the  telegram  should  prove  to  be  of  a  distressing 
character  it  would  be  altogether  proper  for  her  to 
offer  that  advice  and  assistance  that  only  women 
know  how  to  offer  under  distressful  circumstances. 

Particularly  in  young  Murray's  case.  He  had 
been  boarding  with  her  now  for  nearly  six  years. 
Ever  since  that  rich  old  Virginia  uncle  of  his  had 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  \\ 

brought  him  to  Philadelphia  to  study  medicine  and 
had  told  her,  with  such  frank  confidence,  that  he 
was  "  all  the  boy  had  left  in  the  world  "  and  he 
"  meant  to  do  a  good  part  by  him,"  old  Mr.  Dabney 
always  stopped  with  her  himself,  when  he  came  on 
to  see  Archibald.  In  fact,  was  not  above  sitting-  in 

'  O 

the  front  parlor  a  little  while  after  meals  to  chat. 
He  had  said  nice  things  to  her,  too,  about  herself 
individually,  when  no  one  was  nigh — things  that 
elderly  and  lonely  women  set  a  good  deal  more  store 
by  and  remember  much  longer  than  younger  women, 
to  whom  compliments  are  no  rarity.  She  liked  old 
Mr.  Dabney  better  than  any  "  transient "  she  had 
ever  taken  in.  That  was  one  reason  why  she  felt 
so  solemnly  obliged  to  hold  herself  in  readiness  to 
pour  out  on  this  kinless  youth — provided,  of  course, 
the  telegram  should  prove  to  be  of  the  bereaving 
sort — all  the  pent-up  tenderness  of  her  unappropri 
ated  heart. 

She  was  impatient  for  Henry  to  come  back  down 
stairs,  and  at  least  inform  her  how  the  poor,  dear 
young  man  looked  when  he  tore  open  the  fatal 
envelope.  It  was  a  severe  trial  to  her  already 
severely  tried  nerves  to  hear  Henry  finally  shuffle 
into  the  hall  above,  from  the  first-floor  front,  and  to 
see  him  slowly  loom  in  sight,  swinging  an  empty 
pitcher  recklessly  by  the  handle,  looking  as  stolidly 
unconcerned  as  if  he  had  been  expressly  engaged  by 
the  week  to  attend  to  midnight  telegrams.  She 


12  A  8THANOE  PTLORTMAOE. 

could  scarcely  wait  for  his  shuffling  feet  to  reach  the 
lower  hall,  before  asking  eagerly  : 

"  What  did  he  say,  Henry  ?" 

"  He  say,  fetch  up  some  more  ice- water,"  said 
Henry,  grinning  broadly  and  maliciously. 

"  But  how  did  he  look,  Henry  ?" 

"  Like  he'd  had  more'n  enough,"  said  Henry,  clat 
tering  past  her  in  the  direction  of  the  refrigerator, 
spurred  into  activity  by  the  sharp  tinkling  of  Mr. 
Murray's  room-bell. 

"  Preposterous !"  Mrs.  Mirwin  vented  some  of 
her  long  pent-up  indignation  in  that  vague  exclama 
tion,  and  walked  back  toward  the  ill-ventilated, 
stuffy  middle-room,  only  to  emerge  again,  however, 
when  Henry,  having  temporarily  satisfied  the  revel 
lers  up-stairs,  was  once  more  on  his  way  to  the  base 
ment. 

'•  No  signs  of  breaking  up  yet,  Henry  ?" 

"  They's  about  taperin'  off.  Mr.  Clayton,  he's  got 
as  fur  as  lookin'  at  his  watch." 

"  Who  else  is  there  ?" 

*'  Mr.  Markam  and  Mr.  Gordon.  The  same  old 
lot." 

Having  imparted  this  information,  Henry  pursued 
his  downward  journey,  bent,  perhaps,  on  snatching 
forty  winks  before  the  night  was  irreparably  spent. 

"  '  The  same  old  lot !'  I  should  say  so.  I'm  glad 
he's  not  my  son,  or  he  would  have  to  give  up  that 
same  old  lot.  Tlollicking,  frolicking  Southerners. 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  13 

"  At  least  it's  my  privilege  to  see  that  they  don't 
set  fire  to  the  house  a-lighting  of  their  cigars  when 
they  do  go  out." 

In  the  exercise  of  this  privilege,  Mrs.  Mirwin 
opened  the  front  parlor-door  and  seating  herself  con 
spicuously  in  view  of  the  hall  stairway,  assumed  an 
expression  of  countenance  and  an  attitude  in  which 
fatigue  and  disgust  were  finely  blended.  She  was 
rapidly  waxing  wroth  at  this  unprecedented  pro 
ceeding  on  the  part  of  her  "  first-floor  front."  She 
knew,  as  well  as  any  of  them  could  tell  her,  that 
young  Murray  had  received  his  license  to  practice 
medicine  that  very  day,  and  that  "  the  other  three," 
as  the  remaining  criminals  were  frequently  desig 
nated,  had  come  there,  as  they  called  it,  to  sit  up 
with  him.  She  didn't  know  that  she  was  "  called  to 
sit  up  with  him  too,  though."  The  door  to  the  first- 
floor  front  opened : 

"That's  Clayton!"  She  sat  bolt  upright,  as  a 
light  foot  fall  was  heard  on  the  softly-carpeted  stairs, 
and  the  first  of  the  departing  revelers  came  into 
view.  "  I'd  say  something  cross,  but  he  was  looking 
at  the  third-story  back  the  last  time  he  was  here,  and 
I'd  like  to  secure  him.  (Mrs.  Mirwin  was  not  without 
her  own  well-defined  policy  in  life.)  Handsome  fel 
low.  I'd  like  the  neighbors  to  see  that  tile  of  his 
coming  in  and  going  out.  It  looks  prosperous."  Mr. 
Clayton  passed  out  unchallenged.  Close  behind 
him  came  Gordon  and  Markham.  The  seediest  QJ: 


14  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

the  lot,  Mrs.  Mirwin  said  to  herself  and  stepping  to 
the  door,  she  greeted  them  with  a  frigid  ''good- 
morning,  gentlemen." 

"  Oh,  not  so  bad  as  that.  Look  at  your  watch, 
Gordon.  Sorry  to  keep  you  up  so  late,  Mrs.  Mir 
win,  but  it  was  a  solemn  occasion  for  Archie.  Had 
to  see  him  through,  you  know." 

Mr.  Markham's  utterance  was  a  trifle  flannelly, 
and  his  laugh  was  a  disjointed  affair,  but  he  got 
into  his  overcoat  without  any  conspicuous  signs  of 
failure. 

Mrs.  Mirvvin's  attention  was  diverted  by  the  word 
"  solemn." 

"  You  mean  the  telegram !  Nothing  very  bad,  I 
hope." 

"  Tel-gram !  Did  we  get  tel-gram  ?  To-be-sure. 
Don't  know  what  wassin  tel-gram.  Congratu — con- 

grat — con ."  Mr.  Gordon  gave  it  up  in  despair. 

"From  Unc — Dab — s'pose.  Good-night,  Mrs.  Mir- 
w'n.  Better  boy  next  time." 

They  were  all  gone,  and  a  death-like  silence  had 
fallen  upon  the  room  up-stairs.  There  was  no  use 
waiting  up  any  longer. 

Mrs.  Mirwin  finally  retired  to  the  stuffy  middle- 
room,  with  a  weight  of  ungratified  curiosity  resting 
upon  her  like  an  incipient  nightmare,  and  her  mind 
in  a  sadly  unsettled  condition  touching  the  superior 
advantages  of  "  gentlemen  only  "  as  boarders,  over 
the  female  sex. 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  15 

She  should  certainly  speak  to  Mr.  Murray — "  Doe- 
tor  Murray,"  she  supposed  she  must  train  her  tongue 
to  now — very  freely  in  the  morning.  If  it  wasn't 
for  dear  Mr.  Dabney  she  did  not  know  how  plain 
her  speech  might  become. 

It  was  a  crumpled  piece  of  yellow  paper  lying  on 
the  rug  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  that  first  recalled 
Doctor  Murray  to  her  mind  the  next  morning.  She 
pounced  upon  it,  and  read  it  without  the  slightest 
compunction.  It  was  that  telegram.  Evidently, 
she  concluded,  dropped  from  some  of  his  pockets 
when  Henry  had  taken  his  clothes  down  stairs  to 
brush.  Having  read  and  re-read  it,  she  marveled 
more  than  ever  at  the  peculiar  reception  it  had  met 
with.  She  laid  the  rumpled  bit  of  paper  on  the 
newel-post  and  smoothed  every  crease  out  of  it.  By 
the  time  this  was  done  to  her  satisfaction,  she  had 
quite  settled  in  her  own  mind  what  disposition  she 
would  make  of  it.  She  would  lay  it  on  his  plate, 
under  his  morning's  mail.  He  really  was  not  en 
titled  to  any  further  consideration. 

During  the  smoothing  process  Mrs.  Mirwin  had 
made  several  unsuccessful  efforts  to  recall  some  lines 
that  she  had  read  somewhere,  she  really  could  not 
say  where,  about  serpent's  teeth  and  children  and 
an  old  king.  She  was  quite  sure  they  would  fit  in 
here  and  furnish  her  with  a  telling  quotation,  if  only 
she  could  get  at  them  right  end  foremost.  But 
somehow,  all  Mrs.  Mir  win's  bits  of  prose — and  she 


16  A  8TRANGB  PILGRIMAGK 

kept  a  sort  of  job-lot  on  hand — had  a  spiteful  trick 
of  presenting  their  wrong  end  foremost. 

Young  Murray  was  actually  in  his  place  at  the  table 
before  she  found  her  cue,  so  she  had  to  relinquish 
all  hope  of  flaying  him  with  a  classical  scourge.  He 
looked  a  trifle  the  worse  for  wear  that  morning,  but 
it  was  a  handsome  young  face,  brimful  of  hope  and 
energy,  upon  which  Mrs.  Mirwin  kept  a  furtive 
watch  over  the  lid  of  her  Heclar  coffee-pot. 

It  seemed  a  long  time  before  he  reached  the  tele 
gram.  A  lot  of  letters  had  come  for  him  that  morn 
ing.  When  he  did,  he  turned  it  over  inquisitively, 
but  indifferently.  Read  it — and  caught  his  breath 
with  a  gasp.  First  a  violent  suffusion  of  blood, 
crimsoning  cheek,  temple  and  brow  ;  then  a  death 
like  settled  pallor,  and  such  a  look  of  torture  in  the 
wide-open  eyes  that  Mrs.  Mirwin  repented  heartily 
of  her  unkind  ruse. 

"Why,  where  did  this  come  from?"  he  gasped. 
44 Where's  the  envelope?  How  did  it  get  here?" 
striking  his  plate  violently  with  the  open  paper. 

"  It  came  last  night,  and  was  sent  straight  up  to 
your  room.  I  suppose  it  must  have  dropj**!  out  of 
your  pocket  this  morning  when  Henry  took  your 
clothes  down.  I  hope  nothing's  wrong  with  Mr. 
Dabney  ?" 

"  Did  I  make  such  a  beast  of  myself  as  that  iT  he 
said,  looking  at  her  with  absent  gaze.  '•  Uncle  dying 
and  I  carousing !" 


A  STRAXGE  PILGRfVAGE.  17 

Mrs,  Mirwin's  rigidly  compressed  lips  conveyed 
the  idea,  that,  all  the  remarkable  circumstances  con 
sidered,  she  had  no  consolation  to  offer. 

•*  I  just  saw  the  word  *  Richmond," '"  the  young 
man  added  in  frank  self-abasement,  "  and  thought  it 
was  a  congratulation  from  the  old  gentleman.  Told 
the  boys  so,  and  thrust  it  into  my  pocket." 

"  Hereafter,"  said  Mrs,  Mirwin,  passing  him  his 
coffee  with  judicial  severity  of  countenance,  **  I 
would  advise  you  to  read  telegrams.  People  don't 
go  to  the  trouble  of  sending  'em,  I  reckon,  unless 
they've  got  something  in  them.  Trouble  and  ex 
pense." 

**  God  only  knows  what  this  delay  may  have  cost 
me,"  her  victim  said,  gulping  down  the  steaming 
coffee  in  reckless  haste. 

**I  suppose  the  old  gentleman's  will  is  made, 
.  ;-.  '. 

"  Is  that  the  sort  of  brute  you  take  me  for  P 

He  pushed  his  chair  back  violently  and  rushed  out 
of  the  room.  In  half  an  hour's  time  Mrs.  Mirwin 
caught  a  fleeting  glimpse  of  him  as  he  sprang  into 
the  cab  Henry  had  been  sent  out  for.  with  his  trav 
eling-bag  in  his  hand. 

"Henry."  said  Mrs.  Mirwin  solemnly,  as  they  to 
gether  stood  on  the  stoop  and  looked  after  the  swift- 
moving  vehicle,  **  I  want  you  to  take  warning  by 
that  poor  young  man.  It's  as  good  as  reading  a 
temperance  tract.  If  he  has  lost  his  uncle's  fortune. 


18  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

it's  all  because  of  that  orgie  last  night.  Remember 
that  all  your  life,  Henry." 

"  You're  'ard  on  the  doctor,"  said  Henry,  A\ihose 
palm  was  still  closed  about  the  generous  tip  flung  at 
him  by  Archie.  "'Twarn't  so  bad  as  all  that ;  just 
two  bottles,  or  maybe  three,  of.  champagne.  That's 
a  lot  that  never  forgets  they's  gentlemen." 

"  Gentlemen  or  not  gentlemen ;  forget  or  not  for 
get,  do  you  remember  this  day's  lesson,  Henry." 

"  I  will,  mum,  and  when  I  hears  my  rich  uncle  is 
falling  into  bad  'ealth,  I  will  be  particular  abstemi 
ous  ;  I  will  indeed,  mum." 

In  a  desultory  way  Mrs.  Mirwin  was  a  participant 
in  the  temperance  movement,  and  Henry,  the  only 
subservient  male  about  the  premises,  got  the  full 
benefit  of  all  her  theories. 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 


CIIAPTEK  II. 

THE    NEW    DYNASTY. 

YELLOW   sunlight   that    came   slanting 
•*•     through  the  leafless  branches  of  the  trees  on 
the  lawn  were  not  real  sunbeams !     The  emeralds 
and  rubies   and   diamonds  that  flashed  into  beino- 

O 

from  every  blade  of  grass  on  which  they  fell  were 
not  real  clew-drops !  The  wet  rose-leaves  that  had 
fallen  from  the  sweet-smelling,  old-fashioned,  late- 
blooming  "  cabbage-rose,"  and  strewn  one  end  of  the 
gallery  floor  with  big  pink  petals,  were  not  real 
rose-leaves !  The  white  and  yellow  chrysanthemums 
set  in  prim  alternate  rows  all  around  the  graveled 
carriage  circle,  were  not  real  flowers !  Nothing  was 
real  but  death  and  ingratitude  and  remorse  and  that 
motionless  figure  lying  in  the  parlor  behind  the 
closed  shutters  in  the  old  Dabney  mansion. 

Yes,  Brander  was  real.  Real  in  his  huge  shaggy 
personality  and  in  his  ability  to  express  dumb  sym 
pathy.  It  was  with  unhurrying  dignity  that 
Brander  stalked  around  the  corner  of  the  house, 
leaving  the  impress  of  each  huge  paw  on  the  wet 
gallery,  and  came  sedately  to  a  stand-still  by  Archi 
bald  Murray,  where  he  stood  looking  wistfully  out  on 


2f>  A  STRANGE  PILGIIM AGE. 

a  landscape  so  full  of  peace  and  serenity  that  it 
seemed  a  mockery  on  that  particular  morning. 
Brander  sighed,  laid  his  black  muzzle  on  the  young 
man's  hand  and  said  with  his  soft,  brown  eyes:  "  We 
will  both  miss  him." 

"Yes,  we're  left  alone,  old  boy,  but  you've  got 
nothing  on  your  conscience  I  have.  Suppose  we 
take  a  tramp  together." 

A  window  was  suddenly  thrown  up  at  the  remote 
end  of  the  long  gallery.  A  small,  eager  face  and 
the  upper  portion  of  a  half -clad  form  were  thrust 
into  view.  A  shrill,  childish  voice  broke  the  silence. 

"  Say  !  mother  says  I  may  have  that  dog  now. 
What's  his  name,  I  want  to  know  ?'' 

The  boy  suffered  sudden  eclipse.  A  slim,  white 
hand  had  drawn  him  backward  violently  and 
dropped  the  window-curtain  in  front  of  him. 

"  A  member  of  the  new  dynasty,  Brander.  I  had 
almost  forgotten  they  were  here.  Come,  let  us  tone 
up  for  the  ordeal." 

Brander  needed  no  second  invitation.  It  necessi 
tated  a  brisk  dog-trot  on  his  part  to  keep  up  with  the 
long,  swinging  steps  that  soon  carried  his  restless 
master  beyond  the  dew-spangled  lawn  into  the  lane 
that  led  to  the  open  fields.  Archibald  drank  in  the 
pure,  sweet  morning  air  in  great  gulps.  It  braced 
him  with  a  sense  of  refreshment.  The  night  just 
gone  had  been  to  him  as  the  vigil  of  the  young 
'squire  on  the  eve  of  knighthood.  If  he  had  not 


A  BTRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  21 

exactly  watched  his  arms  with  prayer  and  fasting, 
he  had  been  girding  up  his  loins  to  bear  with  dig 
nity  the  inevitable,  which,  in  his  case,  had  come  in 
shape  of  a  most  stupendous  surprise.  It  was  as  if 
the  solid  earth  had  suddenly  been  cut  away  from 
under  his  feet,  and  there  was  nothing  left  him  to 
stand  on  while  he  tried  to  make  a  fresh  start  in 
life. 

The  stables  stood  at  the  end  of  the  lane.  Bran- 
der  looked  at  him  inquiringly  when  he  swerved  to 
the  right  before  reaching  them,  and  threw  one  leg 
over  the  low  bars  that  led  into  the  tobacco-patches. 
It  was  contrary  to  Brander's  recollection  that  young 
Murray  had  ever  come  home,  even  since  he  had  got 
ten  to  be  a  long-limbed  young  medical  student,  with 
out  promptly  paying  his  respects  to  Billy  Barlow, 
the  shaggy  little  pony,  upon  which  he  had  careened 
over  the  country,  as  happy  as  any  lord,  since  first 
his  short  legs  could  reach  the  stirrups.  He  saw  the 
rebuke  in  Brander's  eyes,  and  changing  his  route, 
reached  the  stable-lot  just  in  time  to  see  Billy  Bar 
low  ridden  forth  in  triumph  by  a  boy  of  fourteen 
years  old,  who  grinned  tauntingly  at  a  smaller  boy 
who  ran  alongside,  grasping  frantically  at  the  bridle- 
rein,  while  he  vented  his  wrath  in  high-pitched 
tones : 

"  Mother  said  I  might  have  the  first  ride,  and  I'm 
going  back  to  the  house  and  tell  Hetty  'bout  your 
goin's  on.  Hetty  said  it  was  awful  for  you  to  be 


23  A  STRANGK  PTLQRIMAQK. 

cuttin'  up  so  before  Uncle  Dick  was  buried.     You 
know  she  did." 

"  I  don't  care  what  }rou,  nor  Hetty,  neither,  says. 
I'm  riding  this  pony." 

The  triumphant  rider  laughed  mockingly,  brought 
the  whip  down  on  the  clinging  lingers  that  retarded 
his  progress,  plunged  his  heels  into  astonished  Billy's 
flanks  and  galloped  out  of  sight. 

"  Some  more  of  the  reigning  dynasty,  Brander." 

They  were  close  to  the  defeated  boy  by  this  time 
He  stood  rubbing  his  knuckles  and  glaring  sullenh 
after  Billy's  receding  form. 

"What  is  your  name,  my  man?"  Archie  asked, 
not  unkindly.  Why  should  he  visit  the  decree  ol 
fate  on  a  child's  head  ? 

"  My  name's  Dick  Ogden.     What's  yours  ?" 

"  Mine  is  Archibald  Murray." 

"  Oh !  You're  Uncle  Dick's  nephew.  You  used 
to  live  here.  It's  our  place  now.  Hetty  says  we 
ought  to  call  you  cousin.  Ma  says  she  don't  know 
about  that,  yet.  I  expect  I'm  going  to  have  a  row 
with  Lem  every  time  I  want  to  ride  our  pony.  It's 
our  pony  now.  Everything's  ours  that  used  to  be 
long  to  Uncle  Dick.  Ma  said  I  might  have  the  first 
ride  on  him,  'cause  I'm  delicate,  you  know,  and  have 
to  exercise,  you  see." 

"  How  many  of  you  are  there  ?"  Archie  asked. 

"  How  many  of  which  ?" 

"  Children." 


A  SfltANGE  PlLGIlDlAGE.  03 

He  would  like  to  have  said  invaders,  or  imps,  or 
something  of  that  sort. 

"  There  ain't  none  of  us  children.  There's  Lem 
and  me  and  Tad  and  Hetty,  but  she  don't  count/' 

"  Why  don't  she  count »" 

"  She's  only  a  girl." 

"  Which  is  the  oldest  2" 

"  Hetty.  That's  the  reason  she  puts  on  so  many 
airs,  and  tries  so  hard  to  boss  us.  But  she's  got  her 

7  O 

hands  full  when  she  tries  to  regulate  me  and  Lem." 

"  How  does  she  try  to  regulate  you  and  Lem  ?" 
Archibald  was  conscious  of  a  growing  interest  in  the 
family  history  of  his  successors.  This  boy  struck 
him  as  rather  a  unique  specimen.  "What  sort  of 
airs  does  Hetty  put  on  ?" 

"  Oh,  bother !  I  don't  know.  She's  always  fussin' 
at  us,  and  tellin'  us  this  ain't  right  and  that's  all 
wrong,  and  she  don't  let  a  fellow  have  any  peace  of 
his  life,  if  he's  doing  anything  she  don't  think 
proper.  Ma's  a  heap  easier  on  us  than  Hetty  is. 
Hetty  says  she  wants  us  to  be  gentlemen,  but  I 
reckon  she'll  have  to  let  us  grow  up  to  that ;  don't 
you  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,"said  Archie,  smiling  down  into  the 
small,  inquisitive  face  before  him ;  "  it  is  possible  for 
a  very  small  boy  to  be  a  gentleman." 

"That's  just  what  Hetty's  always  dinging  into 
us.  But  Hetty's  got  her  head  mighty  full  of  rub 
bishy  notions.  That's  a  bully  big  dog,  ain't  he  ? 


24  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

What's  his  name  ?  Ma  told  Tad  he  might  have  the 
dog,  'cause,  you  see,  he's  too  little  to  ride  on  our 
pony." 

The  gloom  came  back  into  Archie's  face  at  this 
reminder  of  his  own  helplessness,  and  he  turned 
sharply  away  from  the  boy  without  answering  his 
last  batch  of  inquiries.  An  indignant  rebuke  was 
hurled  after  him  as  he  walked  rapidly  away. 

"  If  that's  the  sorter  cross-patch  you  are,  I'm  go 
ing  to  tell  ma  she  needn't  keep  you  on  here  for  a 
teacher  for  me  and  Lem.  I,  for  one,  won't  go  to 
school  to  you." 

That  then  was  the  destiny  that  had  been  so  offi 
ciously  and  promptly  mapped  out  for  him.  His 
cheeks  flushed  hotly,  and  his  soul  seemed  steeped 
in  gall.  He  quickened  his  pace  and  walked  on  and 
on,  in  a  frenzied  effort  to  outstrip  his  own  fast  rising 
indignation.  It  made  no  difference  whitherward,  nor 
how  far.  The  necessity  for  violent  motion  was  upon 
him.  On  and  on,  leaping  ditches,  climbing  fences, 
parting  with  reckless  hands  the  brambly  growths 
that  impeded  his  progress,  until,  with  the  drops  of 
physical  exhaustion  bedewing  his  forehead,  he  found 
himself  slowly  retracing  his  steps  toward  the  house 
by  way  of  the  river-bank.  He  would  pay  one  more 
visit  to  the  little  wooden  bench  under  the  oak-tree, 
that  grew  out  on  a  tiny  promontory.  The  neigbors 
called  it  "  Dabney's  Lookout." 

He  was  in  the  immediate  proximity  of  the  bench 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  35 

before  he  discovered  that  it  was  already  occupied. 
A  girl's  straw-hat  lay  upon  one  end  of  it.  A  girl's 
slim  form  occupied  the  other.  She  neither  saw  nor 
heard  his  approach,  for  in  her  arms,  that  were  folded 
across  the  back  of  the  bench,  her  bared  head  was 
buried,  and  convulsive  sobs  were  shaking  her  slight 
form  violently. 

Brander  officiously  frustrated  his  master's  kind  in 
tention  of  retreating  unobserved  by  uttering  a  low 
growl.  He  evidently  recognized  this  spot  at!  pecul 
iarly  sacred  to  memory. 

The  girl  on  the  bench  started  to  her  teet  in 
affright ;  then  blushed  furiously  under  Archie's 
steady  gaze. 

"  This  must  be  my  cousin  Hetty,"  he  said,  holding 
out  his  hand  and  drawing  her  back  to  the  bench. 

"  You  did  not  come  to  breakfast.  You  must  be 
awfully  worn.  I  told  them  to  keep  it  hot  for  you." 

"  Thank  you.  It  was  good  of  you  even  to  remem 
ber  my  existence. 

She  had  spoken  rapidly  and  confusedly,  while  she 
pushed  her  rumpled  hair  behind  her  ears  and  reached 
for  the  hat  that  had  fallen  from  the  bench  to  the 
ground.  Archie  watched  her  as  she  tied  its  ribbons 
under  her  rounded  chin,  with  hands  that  still  trem 
bled.  Tears  unshed  glistened  on  her  lids. 

"  You  loved  our  Uncle  so  much,  then,  without  ever 
having  seen  him  ?" 

"  I  was  not  crying  for  Uncle  Richard.     I  was  cry- 


20  -A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

ing  for  you  some,  but  for  ourselves  more."  She  said 
this  very  frankly,  with  her  truth-telling  eyes  looking 
wistfully  into  his. 

"  For  yourselves  ?" 

"For  mother  and  the  boys  and  myself.  I  was 
crying  to  think  how  impossible  it  would  be  for  you 
to  avoid  hating  us.  I  was  wishing  that  I  could  have 
tilings  all  my  own  way  for  just  this  once,  so  that  I 
could  make  up  to  you  for  everything." 

""What  do  you  mean  by  making  up  to  me  for 
everything  ?" 

"  Ah,  you  must  know  what  I  mean !" 

"  No ;  I  confess  to  being  very  much  confused. 
You  won't  feel  badly  if  I  tell  you  I  had  never  heard 
of  the  existence  of  your  family  before  I  got  home 
and  found  you  here.  Queer,  isn't  it  ?  I  suppose  I 
will  have  it  all  explained  after — a  little  later  on." 

"  If  I  could  only  get  out  of  it  myself,"  she  said, 
not  looking  at  him,  but  fixing  her  eyes  on  a  point 
far  away  across  the  river.  Her  clasped  hands 
twitched  nervously.  "  If  I  could  only  run  away 
somewhere  and  not  have  to  stay  here  at  all." 

"  Don't  you  think  it  a  pretty  place,  then  ?"  lie 
looked  mercifully  away  from  her  troubled  face  as  he 
went  on.  "  Right  here  I  think  the  view  is  especially 
lovely.  Whenever  I  was  expected  home,  Uncle 
Dick  would  come  out  to  this  point,  and  his  Panama 
hat  and  white  hair  would  be  about  the  first  things 
to  greet  my  eyes  when  the  boat  rounded  that  point 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  27 

yonder.  What  a  brute  I  was  not  to  have  gotten 
here  in  time." 

She  put  out  a  comforting  hand  and  laid  it  silently 
on  his  arm,  but  her  words  were  not  consolatory. 

"  That  is  what  hurts  me  worst.  Things  would 
have  been  different  if  you  had  been  here.  Now  it's 
all  left  to  the  law,  and  it's  because  this  is  the  love 
liest  spot  on  earth  and  I  know  I  could  be  happier 
here  than  anywhere  in  the  world,  that  I'm  miser 
able  about  you.  "Why  should  we  come  into  all  this, 
just  because  Uncle  Richard  was  dilatory.  If  mamma 
would  only  do  as  I  beg  her  to." 

"  And  that  is  ?" 

"  To  go  back  to  Petersburg  and  leave  you  in  pos 
session  of  your  own  home." 

"  Matters  seem  to  have  been  promptly  discussed 
and  settled  ?" 

"  Disgracefully  so !"  she  said  bitterly. 

"  And  Mrs.  Ogden's  final  decision  3" 

"  You  will  hear  soon  enough." 

"  Come  ;  I'd  rather  hear  it  all  from  you.  I  think 
you  will  soften  it  in  your  manner  of  telling." 

"  Oh !  it  cannot  be  softened.  It  cannot  be  soft 
ened  by  any  manner  of  telling.  It  makes  me  wish 
myself  entirely  out  of  a  world  where  people  can  be 
so  unjust." 

She  wrung  her  hands  piteously  in  an  excess  of 
impatient  distress. 

"Nevertheless,"    said     Archibald     gravely,      "I 


28  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

think  you  will  consent  to  explain  matters  TV  hen  1 
repeat  that  I  would  rather  hear  it  from  you  than 
any  one  else.  Firstly,  I  should  like  to  ask  why  I 
have  never  heard  of  my  cousin  Hetty  before  ?  Why 
I  should  have  remained  under  the  impression  all 
these  years  that  my  own  mother,  who  brought  me 
here  when  I  was  about  seven  years  old — she  died 
here  on  that  visit — should  never  have  told  me  about 
an  aunt  ?" 

"  Mother  is  not  your  aunt.  She  and  Uncle 
Richard  were  own  brother  and  sister,  but  your 
mother  was  only  a  step-sister.  But  Uncle  Richard 
loved  his  step-sister  and  hated  his  own  sister. 

"  You  are  sadly  well  informed  about  our  family 
affairs." 

"Yes;  I  know  all  about  it.  Mother  was  very  ill 
once  and  thought  she  was  going  to  die.  It  was  then 
that  she  told  me  all  about  it.  I  think  it  was  mother's 
fault  that  Uncle  Richard  and  a  lady  he  loved  very 
dearly  did  not  get  married.  Mother  came  between 
them.  She  did  not  want  our  uncle  to  marry  at  all, 
I  suppose.  He  has  never  had  anything  to  do  with 
her  since  he  found  it  out.  When  mother  heard  he 
was  ill,  she  came  on  here  with  all  of  us,  but  he  did 
not  even  then  let  her  come  into  the  room.  Xo  one 
could  help  knowing  that  he  did  not  want  her  to  have 
this  property.  But  the  law  gives  it  to  her.  And 
now  I  don't  want  you  to  agree  to  what  mother  is 
going  to  ask  you  to  do.  All  this  must  sound 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  29 

awfully  treacherous,  but  you  just  could  not  stand  it, 
and  I  think  I  ought  to  tell  you  so." 

"  Stand  teaching  the  boys  ?" 

She  looked  at  him  in  amazement. 

"  I  have  seen  one  of  them  already  this  morning," 
lie  said  explanatorily,  "  down  there  at  the  stables. 
I  believe  I  did  not  make  a  very  good  impression 
upon  him.  He  let  fall  some  expressions  of  dis 
approval." 

"  It  was  Kob  !  It  must  have  been  Kob !"  Her 
cheeks  were  aflame,  and  she  hung  her  head  until  her 
big  straw-hat  concealed  all  but  one  rosy  ear  from 
his  gaze.  "  Don't  try  it,  please.  Don't,  for  your 
own  sake.  They  are  such  terrible  children.  Really 
terrible." 

"Poor  little  Avoman,  you  are  a  young  care 
taker." 

u  I  am  obliged  to,  you  know,"  she  said  very  simply. 
"  They  tire  mamma,  and  she  depends  on  me  to  keep 
them  in  order.  You  will  hate  us  all  if  you  try  to 
live  with  us.  You  just  can't  help  it." 

"  i*s"ot  you,  I  am  sure.  I  would  be  a  brute,  in 
deed." 

She  gave  him  a  look  of  flashing  indignation.  It 
outraged  her  to  have  him  pay  her  commonplace 
compliments  when  she  was  so  horribly  in  earnest. 
She  stood  up  before  him  with  her  small  clasped 
hands  hanging  in  front  of  her.  He  did  not  at  all 
understand  her. 


30  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

"  I  am  going  back  to  the  house  now,  Cousin 
Archibald.  I  don't  know  whether  you  are  making 
game  of  me  or  not.  I  know  it's  not  natural  for  you 
to  feel  kindly  to  people  who  have  defrauded  you, 
and  I  have  helped  defraud  you  in  spite  of  myself. 
But  I  would  like  you  not  to  think  of  me  as  one  who 
enjoys  possessing  what  is  rightfully  yours.  I  wish 
I  knew  some  way  of  serving  you.  I  would  do  it  so 
gladly.  Don't  }rou  believe  that  much  ?" 

She  stretched  out  her  hands  almost  imploringly. 
The  big  hat  fell  back  and  the  sunbeams  gilded  the 
fluffy  brown  rings  on  her  forehead.  Her  cheeks 
were  flushed  with  excitement ;  her  eyes  were  full  of 
petition  ;  she  was  very  pretty  ;  he  was  very  young ; 
they  were  cousins,  you  know.  It  came  to  him  sud 
denly  that  kinship  conferred  some  pleasant  privileges. 

"  My  dear,  dear  little  cousin  1"  He  drew  her  close 
to  him  by  the  hands  she  had  stretched  out  to  him, 
kissed  her  daringly,  swiftly,  repeatedly ;  dropped 
her  hands,  and  with  Brander  close  at  his  heels, 
passed  quickly  out  of  sight,  not  reckoning  on  the 
waxen  nature  of  a  young  girl's  heart. 

She  stood  where  he  had  left  her  for  a  long  time. 
Long  enough,  it  seemed  to  her,  for  all  the  blood  that 
was  in  her  veins  to  flow  and  ebb  many  times  from 
cheek  and  brow  and  lips — the  lips  that  had  been 
kissed  for  the  first  time.  The  tame  osculation  that 
brought  her  lips  into  dutiful  contact  with  her  moth 
er's  frigid  ones  morning  and  night  belonged  to  a 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  31 

different  order  of  caress.  The  boys — they  were  of 
that  age  when  they  rose  superior  to  any  such  weak 
requirements.  Yes,  she  had  been-kissed  for  the  first 
time.  With  a  long,  tremulous  sigh,  she,  too,  finally 
turned  from  the  leaf-strewn  bench,  with  thoughts  of 
her  mother  and  the  boys  and  the  coming  funeral 
coming  between  her  and  her  blissful  reverie. 

A  low  chuckle  of  triumphant  laughter  made  her 
start  nervously.  Had  any  of  those  terrible  boys 
been  prying  on  her  ?  Had  any  one  seen  that  daring 
kiss? 

Climbing  steeply  upward,  from  the  water's  edge 
to  the  bench  on  the  promontory,  was  a  tangled  foot 
path.  A  woman  had  just  achieved  the  ascent.  She 
evidently  considered  it  an  achievement,  for  she  exe 
cuted  that  triumphant  chuckle  again  as  she  walked 
swiftly  toward  where  Hetty  stood  spell-bound  by 
the  bench.  There  was  nothing  visible  of  her  but 
her  feet  and  a  pair  of  burning  eyes.  The  rest  of  her 
was  lost  in  the  voluminous  folds  of  a  black  water 
proof  cloak,  whose  hood  was  drawn  up  over  her 
head.  She  fixed  her  glittering  eyes  on  Hetty  in  sur 
prise  that  rapid ly  merged  into  anger. 

"  Who  are  you,  girl  ?  And  what  are  you  doing 
here  ?  Spying  on  me,  are  you  ?" 

"  My  name  is  Hetty  Ogclen.  I  couldn't  spy  on 
you,  because  I  never  heard  of  you.  I  came  here  to 
attend  my  uncle's  funeral." 

"  Your— uncle's— funeral !"     Who  is  dead  ?" 


32  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

"Uncle  Richard  Dabney.  If  you  live  in  the 
neighborhood  you  must  have  heard  it." 

"  Dead  !  Then  I'm  too  late,  and  I'll  never,  never 
get  forgiveness.  I  promised  her  I'd  make  it  all  right, 
and  I  meant  to  do  it.  Yes,  I  did !  I  did  !  I  did  !  I 
told  her  I'd  bring  the  ke}7  and  put  it  into  his  own 
hand,  and  I  .meant  to  do  it.  I  did  !  I  did  !  I  did ! 
Here  it  is  now."  She  stretched  out  her  long  right 
arm  from  beneath  the  cloak.  In  the  skinny  palm  of 
her  hand  lay  a  tiny  key,  scarcely  as  large  as  an  old- 
fashioned  watch-key.  "  Don't  that  prove  that  I  was 
acting  fairly.  Say,  girl !  why  don't  you  say  some 
thing  \  Say  something  at  once  !" 

"  It  looks  like  a  very  little  key." 

She  had  been  commanded  to  say  something,  and 
she  dare  not  refuse  with  those  burning  eyes  fixed 
on  her  face.  She  felt  that  she  had  made  a  very 
stupid  remark. 

"  It  is  Mr.  Dabney's  property.  I  want  to  give  it 
back  to  him.  I  want  to  give  it  to  him  myself.  I 
promised  I  would.  If  he's  dead  I  want  to  put  it  in 
his  coffin.  It  belongs  to  nobody  now." 

"  I  can  take  you  to  him.  Xo  one  need  know  it. 
"VVe  can  slip  in  the  side  way." 

"  Is  he  all  by  himself?     Xobody  in  the  house  V 

The  prospect  seemed  to  please  her. 

"  There  are  people  in  the  house,  but  we  may  avoid 
them." 

"  Who's  there  2" 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  33 

"  My  mother  and  my  cousin,  and — 

"  Who  is  your  mother  ?" 

"  Mr.  Dabney's  sister." 

"  Agnes  Dabney  ?" 

"  Yes.     That  was  her  name." 

"  Agnes  Dabney  !"  It  was  with  a  venomous  hiss 
she  repeated  the  name.  u  Agnes  Dabney  up  there 
at  the  house  you  ask  me  to  go  to !"  Her  arm  was 
raised  in  malediction.  Suddenly  it  fell  by  her  side 
heavily.  "  Agnes  Dabney  and  Parmelie  Eose  come 
together  again  ?  Not  if  Parmelie  Rose  can  help  it !" 

She  sprang  from  the  bench,  on  which  she  had 
thrown  herself  with  a  tired  sigh,  and  fled,  like  one 
pursued,  toward  the  path  she  had  so  recently 
mounted.  Hetty  followed  her  with  wondering  eyes. 
With  the  directness  and  speed  of  a  chamois  she  made 
the  passage  between  the  bench  and  a  dingy  skiff 
that  lay  rocking  among  the  reeds  at  the  water's 
edge.  A  man  stood  up  in  the  boat  and  helped  her 
to  her  place  in  the  stern.  Hetty  could  see  that  he 
was  old  and  bent  and  black.  Once  in  the  skiff,  her 
strange  visitor  drew  the  hood  still  further  over  her 
face,  and  dropped  her  head  upon  her  knees.  With 
swift,  skillful  strokes  her  attendant  conveyed  her  rap 
idly  across  the  narrow  stream.  Hetty  could  see  her 
climb  the  opposite  bank  wearily.  She  disappeared 
behind  some  bushes.  The  man  shouldered  his  oars 
and  carried  them  toward  a  little  shanty,  sitting  back 
©n  the  bank,  against  whose  door-jamb  he  stacked 


34  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

them.  Evidently  he  was  a  regular  ferryman.  He 
resumed  his  interrupted  work  of  caulking  an  up 
turned  skiff  on  the  bank.  Some  cows  came  down 
to  drink,  and  stood  knee-deep  in  the  clear  water. 
Overhead  a  crow  cawed  and  circled  gracefully  be 
tween  her  and  the  blue  sky.  There  was  not  a  trace 
left  of  her  strange  visitor.  Yes — there  at  the  foot 
of  the  bench  lay  the  key.  Small,  shining,  mysterious 
link  between  the  living  and  the  dead.  The  woman 
said  it  must  go  into  Uncle  Richard's  coffin.  She 
could  put  it  there  as  well  as  Pannelie  Rose  could. 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  35 


CHAPTEE  III. 

A   NEGLECTED     LEGACY. 

r  I  ^HEKE  was  a  carriage  and  several  buggies  out 
-•-  on  the  lawn,  their  shafts  resting  on  the  ground, 
and  their  mud-bespattered  dash-boards  telling  of  a 
long  and  hard  pull  through  stiff  mud.  There  were 
saddled  horses,  hitched  to  low,  available  limbs  of  the 
shade-trees,  at  whose  rough  bark  they  nibbled  hun 
grily.  There  was  a  group  of  bare-headed  men 
standing  about  the  open  front  door,  who  looked  at 
her  soberly  as  she  came  running  up  the  slope  of  the 
hill  from  the  river-side,  flushed  and  hurried.  Worst 
of  all,  there  was  her  mother,  already  invested  in  the 
black  bonnet  and  long  veil  which  had  been  ordered 
so  promptly,  standing  in  the  dining-room  window, 
evidently  on  the  look  out  for  her.  The  dining-room 
opened  upon  a  low  side-balcony,  and  it  was  by  that 
balcony  that  Hetty  had  been  planning  to  slip  into 
the  parlor  and  do  Parmelie  Rose's  errand.  "What 
had  become  of  the  morning  ? 

Mrs.  Ogden  raised  the  sash  of  the  dining-room 
window  and  sent  an  icy  command  cautiously  out 
over  the  bright  border  of  chrysanthemums  that 


36  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

bordered  that  side  of  the  house.  It  was  her  desire 
to  be  heard  by  no  one  but  Hetty. 

"  Henrietta,  let  me  see  you  in  your  own  room  im 
mediately  !" 

Hetty  sent  a  frightened  "  Yes,  ma'am,"  back  over 
the  bright  chrysanthemums,  and  ran  nimbly  up  the 
steps.  Come  what  might,  she  would  make  one  effort 
to  get  rid  of  the  key,  that  seemed  already  to  have 
branded  its  imprint  upon  her  palm,  so  tightly  did 
she  clasp  it.  There  had  been  rare  occasions  when 
she  had  defied  her  austere  mother  successfully.  She 
glided  resolutely  by  the  room  where  Mrs.  Ogden  was 
waiting  for  her,  on  into  the  great  drawing-room, 
whose  gloom  was  almost  impenetrable  to  her,  com 
ing  immediately  into  it  from  the  dazzling  outside 
sunlight.  To  her  horror  it  was  already  full  of  peo 
ple,  sitting  dumbly  expectant  of  the  dreary  finale. 
Flushed  and  frightened  she  wound  her  way  in  and 
out  among  the  close-packed  chairs  toward  the  som 
ber  central  object  in  the  room.  She  gave  a  cry  of 
disappointment.  The  lid  was  already  screwed  down. 

"Is  it  impossible?  Might  I  not  see  him  once 
more  ?" 

There  was  a  movement  among  the  men.  Some 
one  said  something  about  calling  the  undertaker  in. 
A  hand  was  laid  on  Hetty's  arm.  She  felt  it  tight 
ening  its  hold  painfully  as  her  mother's  cold  voice 
fell  on  the  hushed  group : 

"  I  beg  none  of  you  will  put  yourselves  or  the 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  37 

undertaker  to  any  such  trouble.  Come  with  me, 
Henrietta !" 

The  next  moment  they  were  alone  in  the  small 
bedroom  that  had  been  appropriated  to  her  use. 
She  was  sitting  on  the  bed,  sullen  and  defeated.  Her 
mott  ?r  was  standing  majestically  over  her. 

"  Such  hypocrisy,  in  one  so  young,  I  never  wit 
nessed  !  Your  conduct  of  this  morning  surpasses 
anything.  Do  you  suppose  I  am  ignorant  of  the  fact 
that  you  met  Archibald  Murray  down  by  the 
river  ?" 

Hetty  raised  her  head  defiantly. 

"  I  did  not  meet  him  ;  he  found  me  there.  You 
shall  not  call  me  designing." 

After  that  one  violent  protest,  she  sat  dull  and 
stupefied,  while  her  mother  arraigned  her  with  the 
prolixity  and  severity  she  was  so  drearily  familiar 
with.  Relief  came  in  the  shape  of  Rob,  who  thrust 
his  round  head  into  the  door  to  say  briskly  : 

"  Ma,  the  preacher's  come  and  the  folks  are  wait 
ing  for  you." 

Mrs.  Ogden  cut  her  lecture  short,  with  the  assur 
ance  that  Hetty  need  not  think  she  was  done  with 
her,  and  moved  toward  the  door.  The  tired  and 
excited  girl  felt  grateful  for  not  being  ordered  to 
join  the  gloomy  conclave  in  the  drawing-room.  She 
caught  her  breath  with  surprise  when  her  mother  de 
liberately  drew  the  key  from  the  inner  lock  and  re 
placed  it  in  the  outer  one. 


38  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do,  mother  ?". 

'•  See  that  my  family  is  not  disgraced  while  I  am 
at  my  brother's  funeral.  Doctor  Murray  declines 
going  to  the  burying-ground." 

"  Mother,  don't  do  that !  You  must  not  turn  that 
key!" 

Her  excitement  was  so  intense  and  unusual  that 
Mrs.  Ogden  paused,  with  her  hand  on  the  door 
knob. 

"  Since  when  have  you  learned  to  dictate  ?" 

"  I  am  not  dictating  now.  You  may  lock  me  in, 
if  you  will  send  my  Cousin  Archibald  to  me  as  soon 
as  you  get  back  from  the  burying-ground." 

Her  blushes  were  painful  to  look  at,  but  her  tones 
and  her  words  were  absolutely  fearless. 

"  Send — your — cousin — Archibald— to — you !" 

"  Yes,  ma'am  ;  I  want  to  tell  him  about  Parmelie 
Eose." 

She  had  not  calculated  on  the  remarkable  effect  of 
her  words.  How  could  she  ?  The  door-knob  rattled 
under  Mrs.  Ogden's  clasp.  Her  lips  grew  as  white  as 
her  pallid  cheeks.  She  looked  at  the  wondering  girl 
before  her,  almost  ferociously.  Hetty  came  nearer 
to  her,  near  enough  to  ask  in  a  hissing  whisper  : 

"  Mother,  was  Parmelie  Eose  the  woman  my  Uncle 
Richard  wanted  to  marry  ?" 

"  M— m— m  !     You  little  fool !" 

She  was  thrust  backward  into  the  room  with  no 
gentle  hand.  The  door  was  closed  with  a  swift 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  39 

motion.  She  heard  the  key  turned  in  the  lock  and 
withdrawn.  She  was  a  prisoner. 

"  I  am  glad  of  it !  Glad  of  it !  Nothing  to  do 
but  sit  still  and  think  what  is  best  to  do.  I  will  see 
him  to-night  and  give  it  to  him.  There's  nothing 
else  to  do  with  it." 

She  opened  her  hand  and  looked  at  the  key.  It 
glistened  on  her  reddened  palm.  She  dropped  it  in 
an  open  drawer.  She  stretched  her  arms  wearily 
high  over  her  head  ;  then  suddenly  and  inexplicably 
burst  into  a  passion  of  tears.  What  a  day  it  had  been. 
Sorrow,  mystery,  excitement ;  with  one  slight  line 
of  sweetness  and  light  running  through  it  all.  She 
felt  as  if  it  had  p.  11  carried  her  swiftly  and  forever 
beyond  the  dull  days  that  had  been  marked,  even 
up  to  the  one  just  gone,  with  a  monotonous  routine 
of  service  for  the  boys ;  selfish  little  ingrates,  who 
accepted  her  as  they  did  their  daily  bread,  and  in 
patient  attendance  upon  the  haughty  caprices  of  her 
beautiful  but  rigid  mother. 

She  knew  when  they  carried  Mr.  Dabney  away 
by  the  trampling  of  many  feet  along  the  oil-clothed 
hall  and  upon  the  gravel  outside.  Then  the  house 
grew  very  still  and  she  very  sleepy.  She  flung  her 
self  face  downward  on  the  bed  and  slept.  A  long 
time,  it  must  have  been  and  very  soundly,  for  when 
she  awoke  there  was  a  tray  on  a  table  at  the  foot  of 
the  bed.  Her  dinner  had  been  brought  in  by  some 
body.  She  sprang  up  and  tried  the  door.  It  was 


40  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

still  locked.  The  room  had  grown  quite  dark,  but 
that  went  for  nothing.  It  was  on  the  western  side 
of  ti  3  house,  and  the  shutters  were  not  only  closed, 
but  the  Holland  blinds  drawn  down,  just  as  she 
had  arranged  it  that  morning  herself  before  leaving 
it,  with  a  view  of  preserving  one  spot  sacred  from 
an  invasion  of  the  Goths,  as  she  privately  called  the 
boys.  But  what  had  become  of  everybody  ?  She 
sat  down  aimlessly  in  a  chair  by  the  window  and 
twisted  her  loosened  hair  into  a  tighter  coil.  A 
locust  started  its  shrill  threnody  high  up  in  one  of 
the  big  oak-trees.  She  could  hear  the  cows  lowing 
softly,  sending  encouragement  ahead  of  them  to  the 
score  or  more  of  bleating  calves  down  there  by  the 
bars.  There  was  the  sound  of  the  ax  out  at  the 
wood-pile — quick,  ringing  blows,  such  as  were  heard 
only  in  the  early  morning  or  late  afternoon  when 
Moses  came  up  from  the  quarters  to  supply  the 
kitchen  wood-box. 

The  day  must  be  almost  dead.  She  drew  up  the 
Holland  blind  and  looked  oat  through  the  closed 
shutters.  The  carriages  and  horses  were  gone  ;  the 
lawn  was  devoid  of  life  ;  the  family  must  all  be 
housed  for  the  night,  and  this  reasonless  imprison 
ment  must  terminate  soon.  She  should  see  her 
Cousin  Archibald  again.  The  quick,  sharp  sound  of 
a  galloping  horse  fell  on  the  silence — only  the  sound. 
Then  she  heard  an  imperative  command  ;  she  never 
had  heard  her  Cousin  Archibald's  voice  save  that 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  41 

morning,  but  it  might  sound  like  that  if  he  were 
angry  or  determined.  It  was  simply  a  command 
given  to  a  dog— an  order  for  him  to  "go  back."  A 
low,  plaintive  protest,  and  then  a  howl — such  a 
mournful,  prolonged  howl  as  made  Hetty  clasp  her 
hands  to  her  ears  to  shut  it  out.  The  door  opened, 
and  a  black,  withered  face  appeared  behind  a  lighted 
lamp.  It  was  old  Lucy. 

'•Yo'  ma  say  you  kin  come  to  supper,  honey. 
Jus'  lis'n  to  dat  dawg !  He  do  go  on  lak  he  saw  ol' 
Mars'  sperit,  an'  I  ain'  so  sho'  he  don'.  Bless  de 
chile,  she  ain'  et  a  inoufful  or  dinner  yit." 

Hetty  got  up  and  came  toward  the  lamp-bearer. 
They  were  already  good  friends.  They  believed  in 
each  other. 

"  Aunt  Lucy,"  she  said,  searching  the  top 
bureau-drawer  eagerly  for  the  key  she  had  thrown 
there  before  lying  down,  "  I  want  to  see  my  Cousin 
Archibald  before  he  goes  to  bed  to-night.  Tell  him 
I  must  see  him.  I  want  to  see  him  immediately." 

"  That's  one  uv  the  onpossibilities,  honey.  Mars' 
Archie  done  gone,  an'  I  ain't  the  one  t'  blame  him. 
I's  glad." 

"  Gone !" 

"  Plum  clean  gone,  an'  he  say  he  can't  tell  whar 
nor  when  he'll  see  this  old  nigger  ag'in.  He  tol'  me 
to  gin  you  this,  honey.  Mebbe  it'll  give  mo'  infuni- 
mation  then  he  give  me.  Miss  Aggie  don't  know 
'bout  it." 


43  A  STXANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

No  ;  it  gave  no  more  information.  It  was  simply 
a  friendly  little  note,  telling  Hetty  how  sorry  he 
was  to  hear  she  had  gone  to  bed  with  a  bad,  sick 
headache,  as  it  deprived  him  of  his  one  chance  to 
say  good-by.  He  found  he  must  leave  immediately, 
and  he  hoped,  as  the  days  went  on  and  she  came  to 
feel  more  at  home  there,  that  she  would  be  as  happy 
as  he  had  always  been  and  as  she  deserved  to  be 
everywhere. 

Yery  kind,  but  it  meant  nothing,  and  now  lie  was 
out  of  reach !  What  should  she  do  with  that  dread 
ful  key  ?  Old  Lucy  stood  regarding  her  anxiously 
while  she  read  her  note  over  and  over  again. 

"Do  it  tek  all  that  time  to  read  that  little 
letter,  honey  T 

Hetty  laughed  confusedly  and  thrust  the  paper 
into  her  pocket. 

"  I  was  liopin'  he'd  tell  you  whar  he  was  going, 
leastways." 

"  No ;  he  doesn't  seem  to  know  himself." 

"  An'  arter  all  the  pains  I  tuk  to  gin  'im  this,  he 
done  gallop  off  an'  lef  it  on  he's  bureau,  lak  it  warn' 
no  'count,  an  Mars'  Dick,  wnen  he  begin  to  fail,  he 
say  p'intedly :  '  Lucy,  see  that  Archibald  gets  that 
book!'" 

From  under  her  apron  Lucy  produced  an  object, 
which  certainly  did  not  seem  to  possess  any  intrinsic 
value.  It  was  a  small,  black  quarto,  dingy  from  old 
age,  and  clasped  with  a  strong,  metallic  clasp  of 
ancient  date. 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  43 

"  I  wants  to  give  it  into  yo'  keepin',  honey.  I 
feels  it  in  my  bones  that  I  am  never  gwine  see  Mars' 
Archie  no  mo',  an'  I  does  b'leeve  you  is  the  onlies' 
one  of  Miss  Aggie's  fambly  that  don'  seem  to  re 
joice  at  Mars'  Archie's  downfall." 

Hetty  had  the  book  in  her  hand,  and  was  turning 
it  over  and  over  absently.  Queer  that  she  should 
have  been  selected  by  fate  as  the  repository  of  all 
the  secrets  that  had  been  accumulating  about  this 
old  house  since  before  she  was  born.  It  bewildered 
her. 

"Aunt  Lucy,"  she  asked  suddenly,  "who  is 
Parmelie  Eose  ?"  She  seemed  to  be  getting  hold  of 
so  many  disjointed  mysteries. 

"  Parm'ly  Rose !  Parm'ly  Eose !  "Whar  you  git  hoi' 
of  dat  name,  chile  ?"  The  old  woman's  eyes  were 
aflame  with  excitement. 

"  I  got  it  from  herself.     I  saw  her  this  morning." 

"  You  seen  Miss  Parm'ly  Eose  ?  You  seen  her  this 
morning?  Thar  you's  out,  honey,  or  you  mus'  a 
just  dremp  it,  seein'  things  is  so  stirred  up  'bout 
you." 

"  I  saw  her  down  by  the  river-bench.  She  came 
across  the  river  in  a  skiff.  A  tall  woman  with  im 
mense  black  eyes — eyes  that  burn  like  coals.  She 
told  me  her  name  was  Parmelie  Eose.  Did  you 
ever  know  her,  Aunt  Lucy  ?" 

"  That  sounds  like  her ;  yes,  it  do.  Them  eyes  o' 
hern  does  burn.  'But,  honey,  my  chile,  Parm'ly  Eose 


44  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

ben  shut  up  for  mo'  years  than  you  is  ben  in  this 
world." 

"  Shut  up  for  what  ?" 

"  Shut  up  for  mad.  Pity  her  folks  did'n'  do  it 
sooner.  Den  she  could'n'  a-done  so  much  harm. 
Xo,  she  could'n'  a-done  all  dat  mischief.  It  was  her. 
It  warn1  nobody  else  that  done  it.  May  de  Lord 
punish  her  mo'  and  mo'  unter  de  third  and  fofe 
generation." 

Lucy's  arm  was  raised  in  malediction.  Her 
withered  form  was  drawn  to  its  utmost  height. 
Her  turbaned  head  trembled  as  if  palsied.  Hetty 
pushed  a  chair  toward  her.  Here,  then,  was  her 
chance  to  settle  the  mystery  of  the  key. 

"  Sit  down,  Aunt  Lucy.  I  want  to  hear  all  you 
know  about  Parmelie  Rose." 

Lucy  glanced  anxiously  toward  the  door.  Hetty 
satisfied  her  that  it  was  entirely  closed.  The  old 
crone  sat  for  a  second  looking  absently  into  the  yel 
low  flame  of  the  lamp.  Presently  she  asked  sus 
piciously  : 

"  Why  don't  you  ax  your  ma  ?  She  know  niore'n 
a  minute  'bout  Parm'ly  Rose  than  I  kin  tell  you  in 
a  hour.  She  an'  Miss  Aggie  was  thick  as  hops  'bout 
*V\e  time  Mars'  Dick  Dabney  come  home  from  col 
lege.  She  didn'  take  long  to  fell  in  love  with  him, 
neither.  Ol'  Miss  was  livin'  then,  an'  she  favor  it, 
too.  Miss  Parm'ly  was  a  han'some  one,  I  tell  you, 
an'  she  was  rich  on  top  o'  that.  She  rich  as  cream. 
K"ow,  why  don't  you  ax  your  ma  'bout  her  ?" 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  45 

"I  have." 

"AVell?" 

"  She  won't  talk  to  me  about  her,  Aunt  Lucy." 
Here  the  girl  raised  her  right  hand  solemnly.  "  If  I 
take  my  solemn  oath  that  I  will  make  no  use  of  what 
you  may  tell  me,  excepting  to  benefit  my  Cousin 
Archibald,  will  you  tell  me  then  ?" 

"  Sw'ar  it !" 

Hetty  formulated  an  innocuous  oath  and  swore 
it." 

"  To'  ma  c'uld  kill  me,  or  sell  me  off  the  place,  or 
do  anything  she'd  a  inin'  to,  gal,  ef  you  brek  dat 
oath." 

"  I  shall  not  break  it." 

"  Ef  you  does,  I'll  come  back  from  de  udder  worl' 
'spressly  to  hu'nt  you." 

Lucy's  words  were  the  only  terrible  things  at  her 
command.  But  they  fell  on  dauntless  ears. 

"  Miss  Parm'ly  was  the  one  that  worked  the  thing 
with  Miss  Aggie.  She's  yo'  ma,  and  de  Lord  soften 
her  heart  and  mek  clean  her  ways,  but  Miss  Aggie 
done  mek  up  her  min'  long  'go  to  stan'  jus'  whar  she 
stan'  to-day — at  de  top  uv  de  Dabney  ladder.  But, 
honey,  I  Avouldn't  hev  what  Miss  Parm'ly — I  won't 
say  Miss  Aggie,  fur  she  jus'  are  Miss  Parm'ly — got 
on  her  conscience  fur  all  de  gol'  an'  de  silver  an'  de 
rubies  which  ain'  yit  ben  dig  up  out'n  de  bowels  uv 
de  airth." 

"  What  has  she  on  her  conscience?" 


46  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

"  She  have  lies  an'  broken  promises  an'  black 
deceit  an'  the  puttin'  'sunder  uv  man  an'  wife,  arter 
God  done  j'ne  togedder,  which  is  p'intedly  ag'in 
Scripter.  Ain'  that  'nough  ?" 

"  More  than  enough,"  said  Hetty,  shivering ;  par 
tially  from  the  nervous  excitement  and  partially 
from  the  chill  autumn  atmosphere.  "  What  man 
and  wife  did  she  put  asunder  ?" 

"  Mars'  Dick  Dabney  and  his  lawful  wedded  wife." 
"  My  Uncle  Richard  a  married  man  !" 
The  door  opened  softly.     Lucy's  dark  face  turned 
ashen  with  terror.    She  was  on  her  feet  and  rattling 
the  dishes  on  the  tray  at  a  furious  rate  by  the  time 
Mrs.  Ogden  was  fairly  inside  the  room. 

"I  wuz  jus'  sayin'  t'  Miss  Hetty,  Miss  Aggie, 
that  this  warn'  begin  t'  do.  Ef  Mandy's  cookin'  ain' 

o  «/ 

good  'nough  fur  her,  I'll  haf ter  swing  dem  pots  'roun' 
some  myseff."  She  laughed  nervously.  Her  laugh 
was  scarcely  more  than  a  feeble  cackle. 

"  I  expect  Mandy's  cooking  will  be  good  enough 
for  her  after  to-day,  Lucy.  Miss  Henrietta  has 
been  a  little  upset  by  all  this  excitement,  naturally." 

"  Yassum.  Jus'  es  you  say,  Miss  Aggie,  this  is 
be'n  a  tryin'  day."  She  had  the  heavy  waiter  poised 
easily  on  her  head  now.  "  Jus'  'member  how  ol' 
Mars'  use  t'  brag  on  Lucy's  waffles  en  buckwheats, 
Miss  Aggie !  Lucy  were  some  dem  days." 

"  Yes,  I  remember,  Lucy.  I  remember  perfectly 
well.  You  can  go  now." 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  47 

The  old  woman  turned  in  the  door-way  to  send  a 
look  of  pitiful  appeal  toward  Hetty  over  her  moth 
er's  shoulder.  JSTo  worded  assurance  of  good  faith 
was  possible. 

"  You  are  at  liberty,  too,"  said  Mrs.  Ogden  coldly, 
fuming  a  searching  look  upon  Hetty's  face. 

"  I  believe  I  will  go  to  bed,"  she  answered,  draw 
ing  the  comb  from  her  heavy  hair  as  she  spoke. 
"  The  boys  can  get  themselves  to  bed  to-night." 

"  And  how  about  your  Cousin  Arcmoald  ?" 

"He  is  not  here.  Did  you  send  him  away, 
mother  ?  Didn't  you  even  try  to  soften  things  for 
him?" 

"Who  told  you  he  was  gone?" 

"  Aunt  Lucy.     She  brought  me  this." 

From  the  depths  of  the  pocket,  into  which  she 
had  hastily  thrust  the  little  black  book,  Hetty  drew 
Archibald's  note.  She  was  not  enamored  of  de 
ceit,  and  there  was  no  reason  why  that  note  should 
be  added  to  the  necessary  concealments  weighing 
so  heavily  on  her  tender  conscience. 

Mrs.  Ogden  read  the  note  and  tossed  it  back  con 
temptuously. 

"  I  suppose  you  will  wear  it  next  your  heart !" 

Hetty  tore  it  into  small  bits  and  scattered  them 
over  the  carpet. 

"  How  much  more  information  have  you  extracted 
from  that  old  crone  ?" 

"Who?     Aunt  Lucy?" 


48  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

"What  other  crone  are  you  on  intimate  terms 
with?" 

"  I  thought  perhaps  you  meant  Parmelie  Rose. 
She  is  more  haggish-looking  than  Aunt  Lucy." 

She  was  combing  her  hair  in  front  of  the  glass. 
Her  mother  was  behind  her.  She  was  at  a  loss  to 
understand  her  own  defiant  mood.  She  was  in  a 
state  of  tumultuous  inward  rebellion  against  the 
only  authority  she  had  ever  bowed  to  unquestion- 
ingly.  That  her  mother  had  ever  done  worse  than 
maneuver,  heartlessly  and  seln'shty,  to  keep  the  Dab- 
ney  property  in  the  family,  was  not  in  her  concep 
tion.  She  was  still  at  a  loss  to  understand  the  pow 
erful  emotion  the  mere  mention  of  Parmelie  Eose's 
name  excited  in  her  mother,  usually  so  statuesque  in 
her  composure.  By  the  dim  reflection  of  her  face, 
cast  upon  the  glass  by  the  lamp  standing  close  to  it, 
she  could  see  that  strange  glitter  come  again  into 
her  eyes. 

"  You  have  spoken  of  Parmelie  Rose  twice  to-day 
and  told  me  that  you  had  seen  her.  She  was  a  very 
dear  friend  of  mine  in  girlhood.  She  lost  her  mind 
many  years  ago.  She  has  been  confined  for  a  great 
many  years  in  a  private  asylum.  The  sudden  men 
tion  of  her  name  by  you  this  morning  came  as  a 
shock  to  me.  You  are  not  likely  to  see  or  hear  of 
her  again." 

"  I  hope  not." 

She  walked  over  to  the  window  to  pull  down  the 


D 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  49 

holland  blind.  The  house  stood  low  upon  the 
ground.  AVith  a  scream  of  terror  she  recoiled  from 
the  window.  There,  clearly  revealed  by  the  pallid 
moonlight  in  which  the  lawn  was  bathed,  stood 
Parmelie  Rose,  her  hooded  face  pressed  close  against 
1  the  glass. 


50  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 


CHAPTER   IY. 

A    GRAVE-YARD    TRYST. 

r  I  ^IIE  NEXT  landing  is  yours,  young  man.     We 

O  */  J    *J  O 

J~  will  be  there  in  fifteen  minutes.  Asleep !" 
This  piece  of  information,  with  supplementary 
inquiry,  was  sung  into  Archibald  Murray's  ears  in 
a  hearty  voice,  and  was  accompanied  by  a  rather 
superfluous  slap  on  the  back,  as  he  sat  on  the 
guard  of  the  steamer  Magnolia  with  his  arms  fold 
ed  and  his  hat  drawn  over  his  brow,  staring  vacant 
ly  over  the  water  at  the  monotonous  scenery  of 
the  lower  Mississippi  River,  wrapped  in  a  profound 
reverie. 

The  Mississippi  River  steamboat  captain  of  the 
olden  times  was  an  institution,  in  his  way — combin 
ing  an  amount  of  shrewdness, good-humor, activity 
and  hospitality  not  called  for  in  any  oilier  olllcial 
known  to  the  traveling  public.  He  was  apparently 
gifted  with  ubiquity,  was  always  on  hand  to  pull 
the  big  bell-rope,  or  escort  a  lady  passenger  across 
the  long  stage-plank,  or  to  preside  with  courtly  ease 
at  the  head  of  the  "  captain's  table,"  or  to  settle,with 
summary  firmness,  a  row  between  roustabout  and 
mate.  Such  a  man  was  entitled  to  a  slight  margin 
in  the  way  of  familiarity. 


;- 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  51 

Archie  did  not  resent  that  vigorous  and  unex 
pected  descent  of  the  captain's  broad  palm  upon  his 
motionless  shoulders.  He  had  been  wrapped  in  a 
profound  reverie,  touching  the  past,  the  present  and 
the  future.  It  was  a  somber-hued  reverie.  He  had 
elected  to  try  his  fortunes  in  one  of  the  lower  Louis 
iana  parishes,  urged  thereto  by  Clayton,  whose  kins 
folk  he  was  accredited  to,  and  he  was  trying  to  fore 
cast  his  own  future  in  their  midst. 

Pie  pushed  his  hat  back  to  get  a  better  view  of 
the  captain's  rugged  face  as  he  said  : 

"  I  suppose  you  are  fairly  well  acquainted  with 
these  river  parishes,  captain  ?" 

The  captain  laughed  derisively. 

"  Oh,  no  !  Don't  know  nothing  at  all  about  'em  \ 
Been  landing  once  a  week  at  every  point  on  the 
river  between  Memphis  and  jSTew  Orleans  for  twenty 
years  without  finding  out  anything  about  the  folks 
or  their  plantations.  That's  the  sort  of  fool  I  am  !" 

"  Ilawkspoint,  as  I  understand  it,  is  my  landing, 
and  the  Glen  plantation  is  six  or  seven  miles  in- 
land,"  Archie  went  on,  referring  to  a  letter  he  took 
from  his  pocket. 

"  Glen's  got  three  plantations  back  from  the  river. 
If  you  happen  to  mean  the  one  he  lives  on — the 
1  Homestead,'  as  they  call  it— you've  got  a  stiffish 
ride  ahead  of  you.  I  suppose  Glen's  looking  for 
you?" 

"  I  think  not,     I  simply  wrote  that  I  would   be 


52  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

here  sometime  this  week.  I  suppose  I  can  hire  a 
vehicle  ?" 

"  Not  much !"  the  captain  said,  with  another  one 
of  his  derisive,  jolly  laughs.  "  The  folks  down  here 
ain't  that  sort.  They  might  lend  you  a  trap,  but  no 
hiring.  You've  got  your  own  nag  aboard,  haven't 
you  ?" 

"  Yes.  Meteor  was  one  thing  nobody  cared  to  in 
herit,  lie's  a  devil  for  anybody  but  me." 

"  All  you've  got  to  do,  then,  is  to  make  somebody 
put  you  on  the  right  track  to  Glen's.  It  don't  mat 
ter  what  time  you  get  there,  you're  sure  of  a  hospit 
able  reception.  There  ain't  a  mean  bone  in  Glen's 
body.  If  you  roust  him  out  of  bed  at  midnight 
he'll  tell  you  he's  glad  to  see  you." 

"  I  wish  you  would  tell  me,"  Archie  said,  standing 
up  to  face  the  captain  more  evenly,  but  his  words 
were  drowned  in  the  unearthly  whistle  that  just 
then  began  to  blow  immediately  over  their  heads. 
The  captain  hastened  away  to  the  post  of  duty,  and 
Murray  leaned  eagerly  over  the  guard-rail  to  catch 
the  first  glimpse  of  his  future  home  and  possible 
constituency. 

The  outlook  was  not  reassuring.  It  was  the  fall 
of  the  year,  and  the  river-bank,  at  the  Ilawkspoint 
Landing,  was  strewn  thickly  with  cotton-bales  and 
sacks  of  cotton-seed,  awaiting  shipment.  The  rich, 
black  soil  was  cut  into  deep  ruts  by  the  constant 
action  of  heavy  wheels?  and  further  defiled  by  the 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  53 

presence  of  a  herd  of  starved  cows  and  calves,  who 
tramped  and  nosed  restlessly  about  the  spot,  glean 
ing  stray  whisps  of  hay  or  a  few  scattered  grains  of 
corn  that  spilled  through  holes  in  the  corn- 
sacks. 

The  whistling  of  the  steamer  brought  to  the  land- 

o  o 

ing  a  motley  gathering  of  men  and  boys,  white  and 
black,  some  with  business  to  attend  to,  more  with 
none. 

Night  had  followed  quickly  in  the  wake  of  the 
setting  sun,  and  the  huge  pine-torches  that  flared 
from  the  prow  of  the  steamboat  cast  a  weird  light 
upon  this  scene  as  the  boat  slowly  and  cautiously 
felt  her  way  to  the  exact  spot  where  the  hard-beaten 
foot-path  led  up  from  the  long  gang-way  to  the  top 
of  the  bank. 

The  group  of  men  and  boys  gathered  there  cast 
grotesque  shadows  of  themselves  in  every  direction, 
as  the  flaring  torches  flamed  now  one  way,  now  an 
other. 

Young  Murray  found  it  rather  a  dispiriting  occu 
pation,  looking  down  upon  this  motley  gathering. 
Those  were  the  people  upon  whom  he  was  about  to 
become  dependant  for  his  daily  bread,  not  one  among 
whom  had  ever  heard  his  name  mentioned.  His 
boasted  skill  in  physiognomy  was  valueless  to  him 
here.  There  were  just  so  many  hats,  so  many  noses, 
legs  and  arms  brought  into  vieur  by  the  fitful  torch 
light. 


54  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

A  few  minutes  later  he  stood  in  their  midst,  pass 
ing  his  hand  soothingly  over  Meteor's  quivering 
nostrils,  who  was  yet  trembling  in  fright  at  his  en 
forced  passage  of  the  narrow  stage-plank  from  the 
steamer  to  the  shore.  He  scarcely  knew  to  whom 
to  address  himself,  and  felt  absurdly  homesick  for 
the  steamer,  which  was  already  noisily  puffing  its 
way  to  the  next  landing  down  the  river. 

His  trunks  and  boxes  were  piled  up  on  the  bank 
beside  him,  but  it  seemed  to  be  nobody's  business  to 
inquire  into  their  final  destination.  He  was  the  re 
cipient  of  a  not  unkindly  curiosity,  but  of  no  offi 
cious  interference  in  his  affairs.  He  raised  his  voice 
to  ask : 

"  Is  there  any  one  here  who  belongs  to  the  Glen- 
cove  Plantation  ?" 

"Me  boss!"  An  old  negro  stepped  out  of  the 
crowd,  armed  with  an  ox-goad,  which  reached  the 
proportions  of  a  young  sapling.  In  his  left  hand  he 
held  his  shaggy  cap,  baring  his  gray  wool  to  the 
night  air  as  he  bowed  courteously.  "  I  is  Reuben ; 
ol'  man  Rube,  folks  calls  me  for  short.  I  is  the 
Glencove  teamster.  Kin  I  sarve  you  ?" 

Archie  yielded  instantaneous  confidence  to  the 
wrinkled  but  honest  face  that  beamed  upon  him 
smilingly. 

"  You  are  the  man  I  am  looking  for,  then,"  he 
said.  "  You  will  show  me  the  way  and  take  charge 
of  my  luggage."  He  vaulted  upon  Meteor's  back 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  55 

i 

and  stooped  over  to  adjust  the  stirrup-leathers.  He 
was  impatient  to  start  on  that  "  stiffish  ride." 

Reuben  stepped  forward  promptly  to  render  this 
service  for  him. 

"  You'll  need  dem  splashers  befo'  you  gits  to  de 
end  uv  yo'  ride,  voun«:  mister.  Thar's  a  sight  er 

»/  *    *j  o 

mud  'twix'  yhere  an'  Glenco'.  You  needn't  pester 
'bout  yo'  baggage.  It's  all  right ;  but,  son,  I  'lows 
that  critter  you's  backin'  am'  gwine  give  his  consent 
to  keep  long  side  uv  my  oxin.  I  is  in  wid  the  ox- 
team  t'day.  All  you  got  to  do,  howsomedever,  is  to 
f  oiler  de  levee  tell  you  come  t'  de  by'er,  an'  den  turn 
t'  y  o  right  an'  f  oiler  de  by'er  tell  you  come  to  a  strip 
uv  woods,  an'  den  foller  de  straight  wagin-road 
thro'  them  woods  till  you  come  to  a  big,  white 
gate,  an'  when  you  gits  on  the  udder  side  a-that 
gate  you's  all  right.  That's  Glenco'." 

"  But,"  said  Archibald,  laughing  down  at  old 
Reuben,  who  had  accompanied  these  lucid  directions 
by  hand  and  arm  gestures  to  indicate  the  various 
turns  in  the  road,  "  I'm  not  all  right,  I  don't  want 
to  spend  the  night  in  the  Glencove  fields." 

Old  Reuben  drew  himself  tip  with  stately  dignity. 

"  Sah,  tliar  ain't  no  danger  o'  nobody  spendin'  the: 
night  in  Mars'  Leonard  Glen's  fiels.  Wen  you  git 
inside  er  dat  gate,  you'll  see  a  big,  w'ite  house,  all 
scrou^ed  about  wid  bushes  an'  shrubberies  an'  trees, 

o 

wid  lights  a  shinin'  from  so  many  winders  that  the 
blackes'  night  can't  hide  it  from  folks.  All  you's 


b 


56  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

got  t'  do  after  you  pass  through  that  gate  is  t*  f oiler 
yo'  nose.  And,  son,"  he  added  briskly,  as  Archie 
thanked  him  and  touched  Meteor's  flanks  lightly 
with  the  whip,  "  don'  you  f orgit  t'  shet  that  big  gate 
arter  you.  Our  fiel's  is  full  er  punkins  jis'  now,  an' 
we  don'  'low  t'  feed  'em  t'  ol'  Squire  Mason's  cattle. 
I'll  git  thar  wid  yo'  traps  some  time  'twix'  this  an' 
kingdom  come." 

Professing  himself  quite  satisfied  with  this  vague 
promise,  the  doctor  touched  Meteor  again  on  the 
flank,  and  was  soon  out  of  sight  of  the  little  group 
of  loungers  who  took  a  perennial  interest  in  the 
mild  happenings  that  followed  on  every  landing  of 
a  steamboat. 

As  Meteor  splashed  his  way  through  the  one  long 
muddy  street  of  Hawkspoint,  Archibald  took  rapid 
notes.  There  was  a  tiny  church  steeple,  rising 
modestly  above  the  low  dwelling-houses  of  the  ham 
let.  There  was  a  blacksmith's  shop,  its  forge  all 
aglow,  and  the  ringing  blows  upon  its  anvil  striking 
sharply  upon  the  night  air.  There  were  trees  and 
shrubs  in  front  of  every  house,  shielding  it  from 
vulgar  curiosity.  He  liked  that. 

For  a  mile  or  two  after  losing  sight  of  the  town 
his  way  lay  along  a  river-side  road,  flanked  on  one 
side  by  the  tall  hedging  that  inclosed  somebody's 
cotton-fields,  on  the  other  by  the  inevitable  levee, 
high  and  grass-grown,  shutting  from  view  the  river 
he  had  so  recently  parted  company  with.  It  was  a 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  57 

darksome  and  lonely  road  to  those  most  familiar 
with  it,  but  dismally  so  to  one  traveling  it  for  the 
first  time.  lie  was  conscious  of  rather  nervously 
straining  his  ears  in  hopes  of  catching  old  Reuben's 
stentorian  "  jee-haw,"  or  at  least  the  creaking  of  his 
heavy  wagon-wheels. 

The  wood  into  which  he  turned  presently  were 
still  more  somber.  The  trees  were  not  so  closely 
ranged  but  that  he  could  see  their  long  gray  beards 
of  Spanish  moss  swaying  dismally  in  the  night  wind, 
nor  the  road  so  wide  but  that  frequently,  when 
Meteor  stepped  daintily  to  one  side  to  avoid  an  un 
usually  nasty-looking  mud-puddle,  lie  felt  the  cool, 
soft  touch  of  the  mossy  tendrils  caressing  his  cheek 
like  ghostly  fingers  at  a  dark  seance.  Suddenly,  by 
the  light  of  the  new-risen  moon,  the  glimmer  of 
water  became  visible.  That  must  be  Reuben's  bayou ! 
And  there,  a  little  beyond,  were  two  spectral,  white 
gate-posts.  It  must  be  the  Glencove  gate.  They 
loomed  on  his  vision  more  agreeably  than  on 
Meteor's,  who,  at  sight  of  them,  gave  one  terrified 
snort  and  plunged  to  one  side  with  such  suddenness 
as  to  break  the  girth  to  his  saddle  and  unhorse  his 
rider,  whom  he  recklessly  deserted  to  his  fate,  as  he 
galloped  back  over  the  road  they  had  just  traveled. 

This  was  a  pleasant  predicament!  It  was  bad 
enough  to  follow  old  Reuben's  directions  in  this 
obscure  light  from  the  vantage  ground  of  Meteor's 
back ;  it  would  be  trebly  hard  to  pick  his  way  through 


58  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

the  muddy  fields  on  foot,  not  to  speak  of  the  exces 
sively  disagreeable  prospect  of  presenting  himself 
before  the  Glencove  people  in  the  guise  of  a  mud- 
bespattered  tramp  and/demand  hospitality.  First 
impressions  went  a  long  way. 

There  Avas  no  choice  left  him,  however.  Meteor 
was  long  since  out  of  hearing  of  the  fierce  reproaches 
he  hurled  after  him,  and  unless  he  really  did  mean 
to  spend  the  night  in  Mr.  Glen's  fields,  he  must 
move  forward  on  foot.  Fortunately  a  new  moon  be 
friended  him. 

Perhaps,  but  for  Meteor's  treachery  he  would  not 
have  come  to  that  sudden  halt  in  the  middle  of  the 
broad  fields,  bewildered  and  confused.  .Reuben  had 
told  him  that  after  passing  through  the  big  gate  he 
would  see  a  lot  of  trees  and  shrubs,  behind  which  the 
Glencove  dwelling  was  hidden  away.  There  \vere 
two  groves  in  sight,  a  small  one  to  his  right,  nearer 
by  many  rods  than  the  larger  and  more  distant  one. 
He  was  quite  sure  he  could  see  the  gleam  of  a  white 
fence  about  the  nearer  one.  If  he  had  been  in  the 
saddle  he  would  have  seen  the  spreading  roof  of  the 
mansion-house  dimly  outlined  against  the  more  dis 
tant  trees. 

As  it  was,  he  veered  abruptly  to  the  right  toward 
the  nearer  and  smaller  grove.  Apparently — he  told 
himself — in  so  doing,  he  had  gotten  out  of  the  plain 
road,  for  he  found  himself  plunging  directly  across 
cotton-ridges  that  seemed  interminable,  whose  inter- 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  59 

vening  furrows  were  sodden  with  moisture  and 
yielded  treacherously  under  his  soaked  feet.  After 
all,  these  trees  that  he  was  nearing  might  simply 
belong  to  an  outlying  bit  of  pasture  land,  for  cer 
tainly  the  trudge  he  was  making  did  not  indicate  the 
approach  to  a  gentleman's  country-seat.  The  grove 
stood  on  an  extensive  knoll.  He  was  alongside  the 
gleaming  white  pickets  that  girdled  the  trees— black 
thorn  and  cedars  principally,  as  well  as  he  could 
judge  in  that  obscure  light — before  he  discovered  the 
scattered  marble  head-stones  which  explained  the 
nature  of  the  inclosure.  "The  family  bury  ing- 
ground,"  he  said,  with  an  impatient  exclamation 
over  the  time  and  energy  he  had  expended  in  mak 
ing  this  useless  discovery.  He  stood  still  for  a 
second  to  cast  about  him  for  the  most  direct  route  to 
that  other  grove,  from  which  he  had  been  traveling 
all  this  time.  In  that  second  he  became  aware  of  a 
living  personality  in  there  among  the  silent  dead. 
There  was  a  soft,  shuffling  sound,  as  of  a  slow, 
steady  footfall  among  the  fallen  leaves.  It  came  to 
his  ears  more  distinctly  every  second.  Presently  a 
red  glow,  like  the  tip  of  a  lighted  cigar.  He  could 
see  it  winding  in  and  out  among  the  thickly  planted 
head-stones,  now  nearer,  no\v  more  distant,  some 
times  lost  entirely,  only  to  reappear  in  an  unex 
pected  quarter.  He  placed  himself  behind  a  tree 
which  grew  just  outside  the  picket-fence.  He  would 
wait  until  that  broad,  white  cloud  floated  from  off 


GO  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

the  face  of  the  moon,  and  discover,  if  possible, 
whether  this  lonely  watcher  among  the  dead  were  a 
man  of  his  own  color  or  some  depredator.  The 
neighborhood  was  entirely  unknown  to  him  and  he 
to  it.  He  shouldn't  care  to  be  challenged  as  a  tres^ 
passer,  and  probably  fired  at  without  a  chance  for 
explanation. 

The  faint  fragrance  of  the  cigar  floated  to  him  on 
the  heavy  night  air.  The  smoker  came  and  stood 
leaning  motionlessly  over  the  small  picket-gate. 
Clearly  it  was  a  white  man ;  his  apparel  and  his 
attitude  betrayed  that  much  to  the  watcher  behind 
the  tree.  While  Archibald  was  hastily  formulating 
some  mode  of  explaining  his  own  awkward  situation 
there  glided  past  him  and  toward  the  man  at  the 
gate  a  tall,  slight  form,  wrapped  in  a  long,  clinging 
cloak.  The  smoker  flung  his  cigar  far  out  across 
the  wet  fields  and  put  out  a  hand  hastily : 

"  You  are  late,  Mademoiselle,"  Archibald  heard 
him  say,  a  trifle  impatiently,  as  he  drew  the  tall 
form  inside  the  gate  by  the  hand  lie  had  reached 
out  for  so  eagerly,  and  disappeared  with  it  among 
the  blackthorns  and  cedars  that  spread  their  somber 
branches  over  the  gleaming  white  tomb-stones 

Singularly  averse  to  mystery  of  any  sort,  Doctor 
Murray  found  it  specially  obnoxious,  meeting  him 
thus  on  the  very  threshold  of  his  new  life,  and  per 
haps  involving  the  people  among  whom  he  expected 
to  make  his  home.  He  advanced  resolutely.  If 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  Gl 

there  was  to  be  anything  inexplicable  in  the  home- 
life  he  was  about  to  take  up,  he  did  not  propose  to 
lose  the  clew  accident  had  placed  in  his  hands.  He 
cautiously  circumvented  the  white  picket-fence  upon 
the  outside.  As  he  anticipated,  it  enclosed  a  small 
building,  scarcely  larger  than  a  tool-house,  its  rear 
end  being  built  into  the  fence.  A  dead- wall  con 
fronted  him.  He  walked  the  full  breadth  of  this 
wall,  baffled  and  disappointed.  A  faint  line  of  light 
in  one  side  of  the  building  showed  where  a  solid 
wooden  shutter  was  located.  Fate  favored  him. 
He  had  scarcely  made  this  discovery,  when  a  sudden 
and  violent  gust  of  wind  blew  it  open,  revealing  a 
rough  interior,  a  table  in  the  center,  on  which  stood 
a  shaded  lamp,  and  at  which,  seated  near  each  other, 
were  the  man  and  the  woman  who  had  excited  his 
curiosity  to  so  indiscreet  a  pitch. 

The  man's  back  was  turned  to  him.  Evidently, 
in  his  absorption,  he  had  not  yet  taken  note  of  the 
swaying  shutter.  The  woman's  profile  was  turned 
to  him.  She  had  thrown  back  the  hood  to  her 
wrap,  and  with  hands  folded  on  the  table  before 
her,  sat  like  a  beautiful  carven  image.  Her  profile 
was  singularly  delicate  in  contour,  and  even  in  that 
fleeting  glimpse  Archibald  took  notice  of  the  rich 
mass  of  waving  yellow  hair  that  was  knotted  on 
the  top  of  her  head.  She  shivered.  The  man 
raised  his  eyes  from  an  open  book  before  him,  and 
glancing  over  his  shoulder,  rose  hastily  and  drew  the 


62  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

heavy  wooden  shutter  back  into  place.  Archibald 
could  hear  him  slide  the  iron  bolt  into  its  socket. 
There  would  be  no  more  chance  revealments  that 
night. 

Archibald  had  made  good  use  of  that  one  oppor 
tunity,  however.  It  had  served  him  to  decide  that 
the  woman  who  was  keeping  this  strange  tryst  was 
both  young  and  beautiful,  while  the  man  revealed 
in  that  hasty  transit  from  table  to  window  was 
bent,  either  from  age  or  infirmity,  and  plain  to  the 
point  of  ugliness. 

"  Beauty  and  the  Beast  holding  tryst  among  the 
tomb-stones,"  he  said  disgustedly,  and  slowly  pick 
ing  his  way  back  to  his  starting-point  he  trudged 
once  more  across  the  cotton-ridges,  and  regaining 
the  main  road,  turned  his  face  toward  the  larger 
grove. 

He  was  right  this  time.  ISTearer  and  nearer  the 
big  white  house,  with  its  hospitably  lighted  win 
dows,  loomed  gratefully  upon  his  tired  vision.  How 
could  he  ever  ignorantly  have  stepped  aside  to  that 
spot  of  mystery  and  darkness  ?  They  had  nothing 
in  common  with  each  other.  He  was  but  a  yard  or 
two  from  the  pretty  yard-gate  that  led  up  to  the 
Grlencove  house,  when  a  tall,  slight  form,  wrapped 
in  a  clinging,  dark  cloak,  passed  swiftly  by  him,  en 
tered  the  gate,  and  was  swallowed  up  by  the  shrub 
bery  in  Mr.  Glen's  front  yard. 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 


CHAPTER  Y. 

THE    HERMIT    OF    ALLIGATOR     ISLAND. 

DOOR  of  the  tool-house  stood  wide  open. 
-•-  There  was  nothing  inside  to. tempt  depredators. 
Two  hard  wooden  chairs  and  a  small  deal-table,  for 
convenience  in  sorting  seed,  and  a  lot  of  tools 
stacked  in  one  corner,  that  was  all.  The  new  moon, 
just  about  to  drop  below  the  horizon,  sent  a  slanting 
beam  through  the  opening  to  shimmer  on  the  broad, 
clean  blade  of  a  new  spade.  For  all  else,  it,  was  as 
dark  in  there  as  outside  among  the  shadows  cast  by 
the  blackthorns  and  the  cedars.  A  resident  frog 
leaped  with  -  purposeless  energy  from  the  spongy 
turf  of  a  sunken  grave,  marked  only  by  a  head-stone, 
to  the  pedestal  of  a  stately  column  that  vied  Avith 
the  cedars  in  altitude.  Its  chill  splendor  was  in  turn 
spurned  as  a  resting-place  for  the  wooden-step  of 
the  tool-house.  One  more  leap  and  he  looked  out 
upon  the  world  with  round,  prominent  eyes  from  the 
center  of  the  table  in  the  deserted  room.  From  that 
eminence  he  gave  the  pitch  for  the  evening  concert 
in  his  capacity  as  leader.  From  under  the  sunken 
stones ;  from  out  the  sodden  heaps  of  last  year's 
leaves ;  from  the  gnarled  roots  of  an  ancient  oak, 


64  AS  TEA  NGE  PIL  GRIM  A  GE. 

that  spread  protecting  arms  about  the  tool-house, 
came  prompt  response.  There  was  nothing  to  startle 
them  from  their  sense  of  security.  The  man  who 
had  held  them  awed  and  silenced  by  his  heavy  foot 
fall,  invading  their  sacred  haunt  with  brutal  disre 
gard  of  their  feelings,  had  taken  himself  elsewhere. 
Had  taken  himself  to  the  banks  of  a  narrow 
bayou  that  coursed  sluggishly  along  the  boundary 
line  of  the  Glen  place  for  several  miles  before  open 
ing  out  into  a  broad,  placid  lake,  which  spread  its 
silvery  expanse  in  front  of  half  a  dozen  of  the  finest 
plantations  in  the  parish.  Tall  trees  bowed  their 
stately  heads  so  close  together  across  the  narrow 
current  of  the  bayou  that  in  midday  cool,  dark 
shadows  rested  on  its  bosom.  Brambles  and  vines 
and  burrs  and  rushes  disputed  the  supremacy  of  its 
tangled  banks.  Dead  trees  spanned  it  and  sent  their 
wet,  blackened  branches  out  to  impede  its  progress 
with  armfuls  of  slimy  moss  and  weeds.  Spectral 
cypress  trees  lifted  their  pallid  cones  from  its  dark 
est  depths.  The  black  moccasin  coiled  about  their 
smooth  crowns  with  shining  convolutions ;  turtles 
sunned  themselves  on  its  moss-clad  bridges ;  alliga 
tors  glided  in  and  out  among  the  stumps  and  the 
roots  and  the  wet  mosses ;  timid  cranes  stalked 
mincingly  along  its  borders  or  stood  motionless 
among  its  shadows  on  one  slender  leg.  Only  the 
stock  that  roamed  at  large  appreciated  the  bayou  as 
an  inexhaustible  drinking-trough.  J\o  one  had  any 

^  f 


.1  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  £5 

use  for  it,  and  yet,  on  that  particular  night,  a  canoe 
was  fastened  to  one  of  the  dead  trees  that  spanned 
it,  and  as  it  skiing  lightly  to  and  fro,  moved  by  the 
wind  and  the  current,  the  clanking  of  its  chain  made 
a  dismal  note  in  the  stillness.  People  said  the  bayou 
was  not  navigable,  but  such  a  craft  as  the  one  that 
was  chained  to  the  dead  tree  might  be  slowlv  pro 
pelled  through  its  impediments  by  the  skillful  use  of 
a  single  oar. 

There  was  not  a  glimmer  of  moonlight  when  a 
man  stepped  cautiously  out  over  the  moss-grown 
tree,  and  letting  himself  down  into  the  canoe,  loos 
ened  the  chain,  dropped  it  into  the  bottom  of  the 
boat,  and  began  slowly  and  cautiously  to  paddle 
against  the  sluggish  current  in  the  direction  of  the 
open  lake.  Once  free  from  the  obstructions  of  the 
bayou,  his  progress  was  marvelously  rapid.  lie  plied 
the  single  oar  now  on  one  side,  now  on  the  other  of 
the  canoe,  keeping  her  prow  pointed  straight  at  a 
small  circular  island  that  lay  on  the  bosom  of  the 
lake  not  more  than  a  mile  or  two  from  the  mouth  of 
the  bayou.  It  did  not  cover  more  than  an  acre  or 
two  of  space,  and  to  all  seeming  was  an  unbroken 
mass  of  verdure.  The  same  semi-tropical  tangle  of 
bush  and  vine  and  brier  which  distinguished  the 
banks  of  the  bayou  prevailed  here. 

Approaching  the  bank  as  closely  as  practicable, 
the  man  in  the  canoe  laid  his  paddle  softly  down  in 
the  bottom  of  the  boat  and  executed  a  peculiar 


CO  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

whistle.  It  consisted  of  two  short  notes,  one  pro 
longed  one,  then  two  mfore  short  ones,  the  whole 
confined  to  a  subdued  undertone,  which,  like  all  his 
motions,  suggested  an  ever-present  sense  of  caution. 

From  the  bushes  on  the  bank,  not  in  front  of  him, 
but  several  yards  farther  to  the  south  of  the  island, 
came  an  echo  to  his  whistle.  lie  grasped  the  over 
hanging  vines  and  bushes  and  slowly  pulled  the  boat 
around  in  direction  of  the  sound.  The  whistle  was 
repeated  once  more  from  the  bank,  when,  witli  a 
vigorous  swing,  he  sent  his  slight  craft  clean  up 
among  the  rushes  and  briers,  beaching  and  hiding  it 
at  one  maneuver. 

A  hand  was  held  out  to  him  from  the  shore.  lie 
availed  himself  of  it  while  clambering  over  the  gun- 
Avale  of  the  boat. 

"  What  is  this  for  ?"  he  asked. 

"  The  bushes  were  beginning  to  look  bent  at  the 
other  place." 

"  There's  a  lot  of  stuff  in  the  boat.  Help  me  to 
get  it  out.  Here,  take  the  bag.  I  can  manage  the 
rest." 

He  swung  a  heavy  gunny-sack  across  the  shoul 
ders  of  the  man  who  had  come  down  to  meet  him, 
and  loading  himself  down  with  the  rest  of  the  boat's 
cargo,  folloAved  in  silence  the  lead  of  his  companion 
along  a  foot-path  so  narrow  that  they  had  to  walk 
single  file,  and  at  times,  with  both  hands,  push  aside 
the  tall,  smooth,  cane-roots  which  refused  them  pas- 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  Cn 

sage.  At  the  apparent  center  of  the  island,  the  man 
who  was  in  the  lead  stooped  and  opened  wide  a 
door,  whose  exterior  was  so  curiously  matted  with 
branches  and  vines  as  to  be  indistinguishable  from 
the  surrounding  verdure  when  closed.  He  held  it 
open  for  his  companion  to  pass  through.  Both  men 
had  to  bow  their  heads  to  pass  under  the  low  lintel. 
Once  inside,  every  trace  of  uncultivated  nature  was 
obliterated.  They  were  in  a  small  room,  whose  low 
ceiling  and  contracted  space  were  strikingly  inade 
quate  to  the  comforts  and  even  elegancies  that  had 
accumulated  within  them. 

A  bright  stuffed  portiere  hung  on  the  inside  of 
the  door  they  had  entered  by.  Book-cases,  tools  of 
all  sorts,  maps,  dumb-bells,  pictures,  curiously  woven 
articles  of  palmetto,  crowded  the  space  on  the  Avails 
so  thickly  that  no  one  Avould  have  suspected  they 
were  huno;  with  ordinary  crimson  can  ton- flannel. 


o 


Two  curious  things  were  noticeable.  There  were  no 
windows  to  the  room,  and  no  chimney  to  the  house, 
if  house  it  was. 

In  the  center  of  the  apartment  was  a  charcoal- 
furnace,  such  as  country  housewives  use  for  out-door 
preserving  purposes,  and  in  this  was  a  glowing,  smoke 
less  fire.  A  heap  of  fragrant  pine-cones  lay  by  the 
side  of  the  furnace,  and  dumping  his  gunny-sack 
down  in  one  corner  of  the  room,  the  younger  man 
proceeded  to  throw  a  double  handful  of  them  upon 
the  glowing  charcoal.  They  crackled  and  blazed 
cheerfully. 


68  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

"You  look  cold  and  tired,"  he  said,  drawing  a 
large  easy-chair  close  to  the  furnace  and  gently 
pressing  the  older  man  into  its  arms.  "  This  thing 
is  wearing  you  out,  father.  "Why  not  give  it  up  2" 

"  Wearing  me  out !  toot !  nonsense  !"  The  old 
man  spread  his  vein-seamed  hands  out  over  the  crack 
ling  pine-cones.  "  It's  a  little  chilly  to-night,  that's 
all,  and  I  ought  to  have  changed  my  coat  before 
starting,  but  I  never  thought  of  it." 

"  No ;  you  have  no  time  to  think  of  yourself,  and 
yet  how  many  worthless  lives  like  mine  do  you 
count  yours  to  be  worth  ?" 

"  Don't  talk  that  way,  George !  Don't  do  it,  son  ! 
It  hurts  me  worse  than  anything  you  do.  I'll  be 
all  right  in  a  second.  "What  makes  my  teeth  chatter 
so  infernally  ?" 

He  was  an  old  man,  the  one  who  had  just  come 
through  the  gloom  of  the  night  and  the  damp  chill 
of  water  travel,  and  the  toil  had  not  been  slight. 
His  face,  a  thoughtful  one,  deeply  seamed  with 
anxious  lines,  was  blue  and  pinched  with  cold. 

"  You  are  getting  a  chill !  You  have  one  now ! 
Hold  on  !  Let  me  mix  you  something  hot.  I  thought 
perhaps  you'd  be  over  to-night,  and  I've  got  the 
water  all  ready."  He  turned  toward  a  table  against 
the  wall,  where  a  small  copper  tea-kettle,  swung  over 
a  spirit-lamp,  was  hissing  and  spluttering  energetic 
ally.  He  was  evidently  an  expert  in  the  business, 
for  the  mingled  fragrance  of  lemon,  hot  wine  and 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  (J<) 

nutmeg  soon  floated  out  upon  the  air  as  he  came 
toward  the  furnace  with  two  brimming  goblets  of 
negus  in  his  hand.  One  he  extended  to  his  father : 

"  Drink  this,  father,  while  it  is  hot.  It  wO  make 
you  look  at  life  differently.  Here's  to  Colonel 
Negus." 

He  laughed  recklessly,  took  down  half  the  con 
tents  of  his  goblet  at  a  draught  and  set  it  down  on 
the  table,  while  he  applied  his  handkerchief  to  the 
long  moustache  which  swept  his  chin.  The  shaded 
lamp  on  the  little  stand  by  the  brazier  did  not 
illuminate  the  room  very  brilliantly.  Perhaps  it 
was  better  so,  for  the  old  man  in  the  easy-chair 
would  have  carried  away  with  him  a  heavier  load  of 
care  than  he  brought  if  he  could  have  seen  the  blue 
vein  tracery  on  the  hands  that  mixed  the  negus,  or 
noted  the  sunken  temples  over  which  his  son's  long 
black  hair  fell  in  careless  waves.  It  was  a  hand 
some  face,  in  spite  of  its  extreme  pallor,  and  the 
form,  upon  which  the  coat  began  to  hang  altogether 
too  loosely,  still  indicated  an  unusual  degree  of 
sinewy  grace. 

They  took  turn  about,  this  father  and  son,  in 
comforting  each  other.  God  knows  they  both 
needed  comforting  at  all  times  and  seasons.  To 
night  it  was  the  son's  turn.  The  old  man  was  at  a 
"  lower  ebb,"  he  said  to  himself,  than  he  had  been 
for  months. 

"  Come !  while  you  drink  your  negus,  empty  your 
budget.  What's  going  on  in  the  world?*' 


?0  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

"Nothing  much — nothing  at  all,  in  fact.  Glen 
and  his  wife  got  back  from  New  Orleans  last  week. 
Mason's  gin  has  broken  down  again.  You  know  it 
ahvays  does  break  down  just  when  he  begins  to  gin. 
Martin's  talking  about  putting  in  a  draining-machine, 
and — oh,  yes!  something  has  happened,  or  is  about 
to  happen.  We  are  going  to  have  a  new  doctor ! 
Glen's  imported- him,  I  believe!" 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it." 

"Glad!     Why?" 

"  Because  you  ought  to  have  given  up  practicing 
long  ago.  You  don't  need  the  money,  and  you  are 
getting  too  old  to  be  at  the  beck  and  call  of  every 
hysterical  woman.  Yes,  I  am  glad  of  it !" 

"If  I  don't  practice  what  will  I  do?  Sit  down  at 
home  and  think  and  eat  my  heart  out  ?" 

"No!  Go  with  me,  father,  where  the  name  of 
Bemish  will  never  be  heard  again !" 

The  old  man  dashed  his  empty  goblet  from  him 
with  such  vehemence  that  it  fell  upon  the  brick  floor 
shattered  into  a  thousand  bits.  He  rose  to  his  feet, 
quivering  in  every  muscle. 

"No,  sir!  By  the  Almighty,  I  will  not  turn  my 
back  on  the  old  place  until  the  name  of  Bemish  is 
washed  clean  from  every  stain !" 

"  And  you  really  expect  to  see  that  day  ?" 

The  younger  man  had  more  control  of  his  nerves 
and  muscles  than  the  older  one.  It  would  have 
taken  a  keen  physiognomist  to  trace  the  lines  of 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  71 

anguish  in  liis  smooth,  almost  boyish  features.     He 
stood  with  his  hands  folded  behind  his  back,  looking 

o 

into  his  father's  face  with  eyes  that  questioned  hope 
and  denied  reason. 

"  I  do." 

"  Are  you  anr  nearer  to  it  than  vou  were  a  month 

«/  •-•  «.' 

ago,  father  ?" 

"  I  was  on  the  veiy  threshold  of  it.  The  truth 
was  almost  within  r.iy  grasp  when  the  devil  inter 
fered  to  defend  his  own !'' 

"  That  is  a  trick  he  has  played  you  so  often,"  said 
his  son  bitterly,  "  that  I  should  think  you  would  not 
expect  any  different  results.  What  did  he  do  this 
time  ?" 

"  Blew  wide  open  an  accursed  shutter  just  as  she 
had  taken  the  pen  in  her  hand  to  write  the  truth. 
The  spell  was  broken  for  to-night." 

"Father,"  the  young  man  said,  "I  want  vou  to 

•/  *• 

tell  me  one  thing  very  truthfully." 

"Well?" 

"  Will  this  thing  hurt  her  ?" 

"  Mentally  or  physically,  do  you  mean  ?'' 

"  Either  way — any  way  ?" 

"  Konsense !  Do  you  suppose  I  am  going  to  com 
mit  murder?" 

He  was  nervous  and  excited,  and  the  words  slipped 
from  his  lips  with  unnecessary  emphasis. 

Both  men  winced  under  it.  The  younger  one 
walked  over  to  the  table,  and  replenishing  his  goblet, 
drained  it  before  speaking  again. 


72  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

"]STo.  I  don't  suspect  you  of  wanting  to  hurt  a 
hair  of  Miss  Glen's  head,  but  unless  she  has  changed 
greatly  in  two  years,  she  is  of  a  highly-strung,  ner 
vous  temperament,  and  just  the  sort  to  be  unhinged 
by  the  experiment  you  are  trying.  Better  leave 
things  as  they  are,  father,  than  try  to  mend  them  by 
harming  her." 

"  Two  years  !"  The  old  man  evidently  had  heard 
nothing  that  followed  after  those  words.  "  Two  years 
of  wrong,  of  insult,  of  mystery  and  misery !" 

"  Two  years  !"  the  young  man  repeated  after  him 
bitterly,  "  of  exile,  of  loneliness,  of  life  in  a  lair ! 
Why,  the  beasts  of  the  fields  are  to  be  envied  !" 

A  somber,  brooding  silence  fell  between  them. 
The  heap  of  pine-cones  was  reduced  to  one.  The 
coals  in  the  brazier  glowed  dully.  The  old  man's 
head  sank  upon  his  breast ;  tired  nature  asserted 
herself  and  he  fell  asleep.  The  younger  one  sat 
with  his  great  dark  eyes  fixed  upon  the  dull  glow  of 
the  furnace.  He  could  not  trust  himself  to  close 
them.  Before  the  first  faint  streak  of  dawn  revis 
ited  the  earth  he  must  arouse  that  poor  old  man  and 
see  him  to  his  boat,  and  with  his  own  hands  give 
him  the  impetus  that  would  send  him  out  again  over 
the  dark,  cold  water  homeward.  He  brought  a  pil 
low  gnd  laid  it  under  his  father's  head,  resting  it  on 
the  stand  by  the  chair.  He  brought  an  afghan  and 
wrapped  it  tenderly  about  his  bent  form.  There 
was  nothing  left  to  do  but  watcli. 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 


CHAPTEE  VI. 

THE    BEMISII    TRAGEDY. 

STANDING  on  the  broad  veranda  of  the  Glen 
Homestead,  with  the  sparkle  and   the  glitter 
and  the  cheerful  hum  of  an  early,  sunlit  morning  all 

i/7  O 

about  him  ;  with  the  somber  branches  of  the  ever 
greens  in  the  big  front  yard  a-flutter  with  countless 
robin-redbreasts  and  cedar-birds ;  with  his  genial, 
handsome  host  renewing  his  welcome  in  terms  of 
unmistakable  sincerity,  it  was  easy  enough  for  Archi 
bald  to  make  light  of  the  fatigues  and  annoyance  of 
the  night  just  gone.  All  that  had  happened  before 
reaching  this  hospitable  shelter  belong  to  the  realm 
of  uneasy  dreams  and  homesick  fancies. 

He  had  finished  his  toilet  somewhat  hastily,  in  re 
sponse  to  Mr.  Glen's  tap  on  the  shutters  of  his  room, 
which  opened  immediately  upon  the  front  gallery. 

"  I  thought  perhaps  you  would  like  to  walk  up  to 
the  stables  before  breakfast  to  look  at  your  horse. 
Reuben  got  home  about  an  hour  after  you  went  to 
bed  and  brought  him  along.  He  reports  finding  him 
on  the  road-side,  pretty  badly  hobbled  by  his  hitch- 
ing-rein." 

"  I  shouldn't  care  if  he'd  broken  his  treacherous 


74  A  STttAftGti 

neck !"  said  Murray,  stepping  back  into  the  hall  for 
liis  hat. 

"I  hope  you  don't  bear  malice,"  said  Mr.  Glen, 
laughing.  "  I  don't  much  blame  the  brute  for  scar 
ing  at  those  ghostly  posts,  coming  on  them  for  the 
first  time  in  the  night.  We  may  as  well  take  the 
glass,  and  I  can  introduce  you  to  some  of  your  con 
stituents  at  long  range." 

He  took  down  a  long  old-fashioned  spy-glass  from 
the  rack  in  the  hall  and  led  the  way  toward  the 
front  gate,  which  lay  at  the  end  of  a  long  walk, 
flanked  by  double  rows  of  crape  myrtle,  then  out 
upon  the  broad,  grassy  lawn  that  sloped  gradually 
down  to  the  very  water's  edge  in  velvet  smoothness. 

"  What  lovely  situations  you  lake-dwellers  all  seem 
to  have  for  your  homes,"  Archibald  said,  sweeping 
the  view  with  admiring  gaze. 

"  We  think  so.  I  was  born  right  here,  you  know, 
and  although  I  have  traveled  considerably,  for  a 
swamp  planter,  hanged  if  I've  found  a  spot  anywhere, 
North,  South,  East  or  West,  that  I  would  exchange  the 
Homestead  for.  My  wife's  almost  as  bad  about  it 
as  I  am.  She's  lived  here  always,  too.  You  see 
that  chimney  peeping  up  over  the  trees  on  the  other 
side  of  the  lake,  up  yonder  to  the  north  2  Xo  ;  not 
the  one  with  the  green  gate-posts.  Here ;  take  the 
glass.  Now,  then,  the  one  with  the  long  wooden- 
walk  leading  out  to  the  boat-house.  Yes  2  Well, 
that's  where  Mrs.  Glen's  folks  live.  Her  father  and 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  % 

mother  and  a  house  full  of  children.  You  are  likely 
to  see  enough  of  them.  They  are  the  sort  that 
wants  the  doctor  if  baby  scratches  its  own  nose 
with,  its  own  nails.  Mrs.  Glen  was  born  in  that 
very  house.  A  jolly  old  place  it  is,  too.  Mrs.  Glen 
was  a  Martin." 

Archibald  next  brought  the  glass  to  bear  upon  the 
green  gate-posts.  They  were  two  or  three  miles  dis 
tant  from,  the  Martin  mansion.  A  tiny  little  frame- 
cottage,  all  latticed  about,  sat  back  behind  them. 
The  lattice-work  was  painted  the  same  vivid  green 
as  the  gate-posts.  It  all  looked  very  snug  and  trim. 

"  Whose  wren's  nest  is  that  behind  the  green  gate 
posts  ?"  he  asked,  without  removing  the  glass.  "  I 
like  the  look  of  it." 

Mr.  Glen  laughed  as  he  answered  : 

"If  you're  one  of  the  gormandizing  sort,  that 
house  behind  the  green  gate-posts  will  become  one 
of  your  favorite  resorts.  There's  where  Bud  Hunt 
lives.  I'll  lay  a  wager  Clayton's  written  to  him 
about  you  already.  Bud's  a  character.  He  knows 
how  to  set  a  table,  though.  All  the  housekeepers  in 
the  country  are  envious  of  him.  Confirmed  old 
bachelor.  Says  it's  Thersie's  fault.  You  haven't 
seen  Thersie  yet — my  sister,  Miss  Glen.  Bud  began 
courting  her  when  she  came  home  from  school  for 
the  holidays,  and  has  kept  it  up  annually  ever  since. 
Don't  see  how  he  could  round  off  the  year  without 
his  "annual  message,"  I  call  it.  Tip-top  fellow, 


76  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

Hunt.  If  he  hadn't  been  left  too  well  off,  he'd  have 
done  something,  maybe.  Lots  of  brains.  The  next 
place,"  noticing  that  Murray  had  changed  the  direc 
tion  of  the  glass  once  more,  "  belongs  to  a  lot  of 
people  who  just  serve  to  fill  up  chinks.  You  know 
the  world  has  to  have  ballast  of  one  sort  or  another. 
And  next  to  that  comes  the  Bemish  place.  Bemish 
is  your  predecessor." 

"  Why  my  predecessor  ?"  Archie  asked,  lowering 
the  heavy  glass  and  returning  it  to  his  host.  "  Cer 
tainly  a  neighborhood  like  this  ought  to  be  able  to 
support  two  physicians  without  injury  to  any  one's 
prospects.  I  should  not  like  to  feel  like  an  usurper." 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Glen  soothingly, 
"  pray  don't  get  any  of  that  nonsense  in  your  head. 
For  all  practical  purposes,  old  Bemish  may  as  well 
have  died  and  been  buried  two  years  ago.  He  tries 
to  keep  up,  but  it's  a  dismal  failure." 

"  Health  giving  way  ?" 

"  No.  To  look  at  him  you  would  say  there  were 
a  good  many  years  of  usefulness  ahead  of  the  old 
man.  He's  not  more  than  sixty,  perhaps  less.  But- 
well,  I  may  as  well  tell  you  about  Bemish  first  as 
last.  You  are  going  to  hear  his  story  from  some 
body.  It  Avill  serve  to  show  you,  too,  how  much  we 
need  another  physician  hare,  and  how  little  you 
will  be  of  an  interloper." 

They  had  been  walking  slowly  toward  the  stables 
while  talking.  Meteor  was  brought  out  for  his  ma* 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  77 

ter's  inspection  and  found  to  be  none  the  worse  for 
his  escapade,  barring  a  skinned  spot  on  one  leg. 

Mr.  Glen  led  the  way  to  a  mounting-block  on  the 
road-side  when  the  examination  was  concluded,  and 
suggested  they  should  sit  there  while  he  told  Doc 
tor  Bemish's  story.  "  Plenty  of  time  before  break 
fast.  Mrs.  Glen  and  Thersie  are  a  little  deliberate 
of  mornings."  Then  he  entered  upon  his  narrative. 

"  Bemish  has  had  the  entire  practice  of  this  neigh 
borhood  ever  since  I  was  a  boy.  In  fact,  he  has 
never  practiced  anywhere  else.  Came  here  a  strug 
gling  young  doctor,  about  your  age,  but  married 
into  one  of  the  wealthiest  families  on  the  lake 
before  he'd  been  here  a  year.  That  place  over  yon 
der  was  his  wife's.  She  didn't  live  long.  Died 
when  their  first  child,  a  splendid  boy,  was  about  five 
or  six  years  old.  Bemish  adored  her  and  worshiped 
the  boy.  He  never  would  allow  him  to  go  away  to 
school.  Reared  him  up  right  under  his  own  nose. 
Had  all  sorts  of  tutors  for  him,  but  somehow  none 
of  them  staid  very  long.  George  was  a  little  too 
much  for  them,  I  guess. 

"  Xot  that  he  didn't  study.  His  father  used  to 
say  they  left  when  George  had  squeezed  them  dry 
and  they  hadn't  anything  more  to  offer  him.  The 
old  man  seemed  perfectly  satisfied  with  everything 
George  did  or  left  undone.  They  lived  over  there 
together,  and  when  the  doctor  was  off  duty  he  de 
voted  himself  to  George's  culture.  You  can 


78  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

imagine  what  sort  of  training  the  boy  got.     More 
money  than  was  good   for  him ;  absolute   liberty, 
and  a  doating  father  as  his  only  restraint." 
"  What  a  beast  he  must  have  turned  out !" 
''  On  the  contrary,  he  was  one  of  the  most  fascin 
ating'  youno;  fellows   you  ever  saw.     Even  men  felt 

o     *,  «/ 

the  power  of  his  gentleness,  courtesy  and  affability. 
And  as  for  the  women !  Well,  when  I  tell  you 
George  Beinish  was  as  handsome  as  Adonis,  you  can 
forecast  their  opinion.  I  believe  Thersie  was  about 
the  only  girl  in  the  parish  that  wasn't  ready  to  drop 
into  his  arms  at  the  first  word.  But  then  we  call 
Thersie  '  St.  Ambrose's  Maiden  of  Snow.'  Bemish 
was  a  great  beau  in  those  days." 

"  I  notice  you  speak  of  Mr.  Beinish  in  the  past 
tense.  Is  he  dead  ?" 

"  That's  more  than  I  can  tell  you.  It  would  have 
been  better  for  the  old  man  if  he  had  died  when 
his  mother  did.  lie  had  full  swing.  Drove  the 
fastest,  wildest  horses  that  ever  were  hitched  to  a 
pole,  and  was  in  for  all  that  was  going.  INTobody 
ever  saw  George  Bemish  drunk,  but  when  he  mur 
dered  a  poor  little  Frenchman,  whom  the  doctor  had 
imported  in  order  to  cram  George  for  a  European 
trip,  in  cold  blood,  the  people  were  just  ready  to 
mob  him.  They  would  have  done  it,  too — would 
have  taken  him  out  of  jail  and  lynched  him  if  he 
hadn't  escaped  in  some  mysterious  way  and  got  out 
of  the  country." 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.          ,  ;<t 

"  Do  you  suppose  his  father  got  him  out  2" 

"  IS"o.  You  see  at  the  time  this  thing  occurred 
there  wasn't  much  else  talked  about  for  weeks,  and 
we  exhausted  all  our  theories.  No  ;  if  the  old  man 
had  gotten  him  out  he  would  have  cleared  out  with 
him.  But  he  didn't,  which  is  all  the  proof  we 
Avant  that  he  doesn't  even  know  his  son's  where 
abouts.  At  first  he  just  seemed  to  give  up  com 
pletely.  Lived  at  the  jail ;  had  to  be  almost  driven 
away.  Everybody  pitied  the  old  man.  He  Avas  a 
good  man  and  a  good  doctor,  and  we  have  kept  on 
sending  for  him,  just  as  if  nothing  had  ever  hap 
pened.  But  you  see  Ave're  getting  afraid  to  depend 
on  him." 

"Why  Avas  the  guilt  fastened  on  young  Bemish  so 
promptly?  It  doesn't  seem  in  keeping  with  the 
character  you  have  described." 

"  Doesn't  it  ? 

"  Oh  !  well,  nobody  else  could  have  done  it.  No 
body  else  had  any  motive.  I'm  not  going  to  say  the 
Frenchman  Avasn't  an  infernal  little  nuisance — a 
conceited  puppy  that  couldn't  look  at  a  Avoman  Avith- 
out  offering  to  insult  her.  There'd  been  a  fish-fry 
doAvn  by  Bemish's  gate  that  day.  Thersie  went. 
Mrs.  Glen  and  I  didn't.  Thersie  Avent  with  Hugh 
Maury.  Mrs.  Glen  thinks  they  Avere  engaged.  I 
don't  know.  It  seems  this  little  Frenchman  made 
an  extra  fool  of  himself  on  that  occasion,  and  Hugh 
said  to  George — they  Avere  the  best  sort  of  friends, 


80  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

Hugh  and  George — 'that  he  was  afraid  he  would 
have  to  slap  the  Frenchman's  jaws  before  the  day 
was  over,'  and  George  said  :  '  Just  leave  him  to  me ; 
I'll  iix  him.'  "When  Lawyer  Simonds  interviewed 
him  after  the  murder  and  reminded  him  of  that  re 
mark  he  didn't  deny  having  said  it,  but  said  he  had 
simply  meant,  in  his  capacity  of  host,  to  order  him 
off  the  grounds.  But  the  Frenchman  was  found 
dead  that  same  evening  just  inside  Bemish's  grounds, 
and  an  old  Scotch  gardener  of  the  doctor's  swore  to 
seeing  George  Bemish  pull  a  knife  from  under  the 
body  and  fling  it  as  far  as  he  could  send  it  into  the 
lake,  after  doing  which  he  called  on  the  gardener 
to  help  him  carry  the  man  to  the  house.  You  see 
there  wasn't  any  room  for  doubt." 

"  Is"ot  much.  What  a  dastardly  scoundrel !" 
"  Yes ;  and  being  the  only  murder  that  ever  had 
been  committed  in  the  parish,  it  seemed  to  excite 
the  neighborhood  to  a  perfect  frenzy  of  indignation. 
You  see  they  felt  as  if  they  must  do  something  to 
show  that  a  man  couldn't  ride  rough-shod  over  the 
moralities  and  decencies  of  life  just  because  he  was 
a  rich  man's  son,  and  if  George  Bemish  had  not  been 
sharp  enough  to  break  jail,  I  am  afraid  that  some 
thing  would  have  occurred  of  a  very  serious  nature. 
The  old  man's  case  is  really  a  pitiful  one.  Of  course 
you  will  call  on  him  '4" 

"  I  suppose  courtesy  demands  that  much." 

"  I  think  it  does.     Come  !   I  expect  you  are  about 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  81 

ready  for  your  breakfast  ?"  Mr.  Glen  rose  from  the 
carriage  block,  brushed  the  dust  from  his  trousers, 
and  swinging  the  spy-glass  over  his  shoulders  by  its 
leathern  strap,  took  the  lead  once  more. 

"  Your  lake  is  entrancing  this  morning."  Archie 
halted  immediately  in  front  of  the  gate  to  look  once 
more  out  over  the  blue  and  rippling  water.  There 
were  great  patches  of  Minorca  lily-pads  afloat  on  its 
bosom  near  the  banks,  their  huge  green  discs  each 
holding  a  sparkling  diamond-drop  at  its  heart. 
Archie's  delighted  eyes  wandered  up  and  down  the 
lonely  sheet  of  water,  resting  finally  on  a  small 
circular  island  that  presented  an  unbroken  green 
cone  of  verdure  to  the  sun's  rays.  It  scarcely 
covered  more  than  two  acres  of  space. 

"  AVhat   do  you    call    that   emerald    gem   down 

«/ 

yonder  ?"  he  asked,  pointing  it  out  to  his  host. 

"It  goes  by  the  name  of  Alligator's  Island. 
There's  a  notion  out  that  alligators  are  thicker  about 
there  than  anyw^here  else  in  the  lake.  It  belongs  to 
the  Bemish  property,  and  I  understand  the  old  man 
has  had  a  notice  wrarning  off  trespassers  stuck  on  all 
four  sides  of  it.  There's  not  much  call  for  that,  as 
there's  nothing  to  tempt  trespassers.  It's  about  as 
useless  a  piece  of  property  as  a  body  could  well  pos 
sess.  It's  iust  a  crankv  notion  of  the  old  man's." 

t)  «^ 

"  It's  a  beauty  spot,  though." 
"  Yes,  perhaps.     By  the  way,  Murray," — they  had 
passed  inside  of  the  gate  by  this  time,  and  Archi- 


82  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

bald  could  see  the  trailing  flounces  of  feminine  gar 
ments  on  the  veranda  through  the  thick  shrubbery— 
"  I've  one  warning  to  utter.  We  never  speak  of  the 
Bemish  tragedy  before  my  sister.  She  was  ma-do 
unaccountably  nervous  by  it  at  the  time  it  happened. 
And  then,  when  Hugh  Maury  left  the  neighborhood- 
some  said  it  was  because  he  felt  he  had  innocently 
precipitated  the  tragedy — Thersie  was  really  in  a 
bad  way.  You  see,  I'm  very  candid,  but  then  you're 
going  to  be  one  of  us,  and  I  am  opposed  to  useless 
mystification." 

Doctor  Murray  turned  and  clasped  his  host's  hand 
warmly. 

"  I  am  with  you,  then.  There  is  nothing  on  earth 
that  excites  my  wrath  and  disgust  more  readily  than 
mystery  in  the  home  circle." 

They  were  at  the  foot  of  the  front  steps  by  this 
time,  and  there,  standing,  waiting  to  be  introduced 
to  the  new  doctor  before  passing  into  the  breakfast- 
room,  was  Mrs.  Glen,  a  tiny  little  Avoman  with  a 
frank,  open  face,  a  pair  of  fearless  blue  eyes,  a  mass 
of  black  hair,  and  no  end  of  ribbons  and  laces  on  her 
morning-dress,  which  trailed  gracefully  from  her 
sloping  shoulders  as  she  came  forward  with  a 
cordially  extended  hand. 

More  slowly,  with  more  of  quiet  dignity  and  an 
immense  amount  of  shy  reserve,  Miss  Glen  followed 
her  motions.  She  was  quite  tall,  and  about  her  head 
was  coiled  a  mass  of  pale  yellow  hair.  Her  repose 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  S3 

almost  amounted  to  languor.  As  she  turned  from 
him,  after  uttering  some  conventional  words  of  wel 
come  her  profile  came  into  view.  Archie  started  in 
voluntarily,  and  then  put  from  him  violently  the  wild 
suspicion  that  had  entered  his  fancy. 

He  was  assigned  a  place  at  the  table  immediately 
opposite  Miss  Glen.  lie  was  taking  some  pro 
fessional  notes  of  her  excessive  languor  and  pallor, 
when  Mr.  Glen  betrayed  him  to  the  family. 

"  Think  of  Murray's  having  to  tramp  across  the 
fields  last  night  afoot !  Horse  threw  him,  and  he 
had  to  find  his  way  the  best  he  could.  I  think  he'd 
have  shot  the  brute  this  morning  if  I  hadn't  pleaded 
his  case." 

Annoyance  at  this  exposure  of  his  mishap  was  swal 
lowed  up  in  surprise  at  Miss  Glen's  peculiar  conduct. 
She  had  been  conveying  her  coffee-cup  to  her  lips 
when  her  brother  made  this  bantering  expose.  The 
hand  that  held  the  cup  trembled  so  that  she  replaced 
it  in  the  saucer,  its  contents  untasted.  Her  eyes 
were  fastened  on  his  face  in  mute,  startled  inquiry 
for  a  second.  Then  they  fell  before  his  steady  gaze, 
and  the  pallor  he  had  found  so  distressing,  from  a 
physician's  point  of  view,  was  suddenly  displaced  by 
rosy  confusion. 

"Evidently,"  Archie  said  to  himself,  "it  has  just 
this  moment  occurred  to  my  lady  that  the  man  she 
passed  last  night  was  neither  a  stump  nor  a  stray 
mule.  Bah  !  What  is  it  to  me  if  Mr.  Glen's  hand- 


84  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

some  sister  sees  fit  to  hold  tryst  with  gentlemen  in 
the  grave-yard  f 

Having  settled  it  with  himself  that  it  was  abso 
lutely  nothing  to  him,  he  joined  in  the  laugh  against 
himself  composedly,  increasing  the  mirth  of  his 
hearers  by  a  terse  account  of  his  entire  trip,  but 
never  once  touching  upon  the  detour  he  had  made 
after  entering  the  Homestead  fields.  For  reasons 
of  his  own  ih&tfaux pas  was  suppressed. 

Theresa  listened  to  him  like  one  in  a  trance.  She 
never  once  raised  her  eyes  from  her  plate  during  the 
remainder  of  the  meal.  Before  it  terminated  she 
rose  abruptly,  and  with  a  muttered  apology,  left  the 
room.  Mr.  Glen  looked  across  the  table  at  his  wife 
inquiringly. 

"•  Martha  savs  Thersie  had  one  of  her  bad  niirhts 

V 

again,"  she  said,  answering  the  look.  "  I'm  afraid 
she  will  be  Doctor  Murray's  first  patient." 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  85 


CHAPTER  VII. 

HKTTY    SEEKS    TO    SOLVE    THE    MYSTERY. 

IT  WAS  very  rarely  that  Mrs.  Ogden  felt  com 
pelled  to  acknowledge  herself  baffled.  She  be 
longed  to  that  imperious  type  of  womanhood  that 
prefers  martyrdom  to  exposure.  She  would  rather 
have  suffered  the  tortures  of  the  Inquisition  than  ac 
knowledge  herself  incapable  of  controlling  her  own 
household.  But  circumstances  had  brought  her  to 
the  point  where  the  acknowledgment  must  be  made. 
The  especially  trying  feature  of  the  case  was  that 
she  had  been  baffled  by  the  creature  of  all  others 
who  heretofore  had  been  as  wax  in  her  hands — 
Hetty ! 

Hetty,  who  from  having  been  one  of  the  most 
cheerful,  unselfish  and  malleable  of  creatures,  had 
sunk  into  a  condition  of  inexplicable  sullenness, 
nervousness  and  gloom.  It  really  was  very  trying 
to  Mrs.  Ogden,  coming  as  it  did  at  a  time  when  she 
more  than  ever  needed  the  girl's  strong  common- 
sense  aid  in  the  management  of  the  boys,  who  were 
fairly  running  wild  in  their  newly  enlarged  sphere 
as  country  boys  with  space  and  possessions  at  their 
command. 


86  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

Something  must  be  done  with  the  boys  and  for 
Hetty.  She  herself  hail  never  known,  until  Hetty's 
supervision  had  been  relaxed,  how  heavily  she  had 
leaned  upon  the  little  thing  to  save  her  from  the 
irksome  responsibilities  of  controlling  the  boys  and 
keeping  them  out  of  mischief.  She  had  resolved  to 
consult  Doctor  Vernon  on  the  subject.  She  had  not 
seen  much  of  him  since  taking  control  of  the  old 
place,  for  he  was  one  of  "  Archibald  Murray's  ad 
herents,"  as  she,  in  bitterness  of  soul,  called  all  of  the 
neighbors  who  showed  even  a  tacit  disapproval  of 
the  promptness  with  which  she  had  taken  possession 
of  her  brother's  property.  Distasteful  as  Doctor 
Yernon  was  on  this  account,  every  one  of  her 
neighbors  would  be  equally  if  not  more  so. 

She  "dog-eared"  several  sheets  of  good  linen 
note-paper  beyond  redemption,  as  she  absently 
curled  the  corner^  of  them  under  her  forefinger  and 
thumb  while  trying  to  summon  Doctor  Yernon.  It 
was  not  the  mere  summoning  of  him;  but  in  order 
to  explain  to  him  Hetty's  peculiar  state  of  body  and 
mind,  she  would  be  compelled  to  tell  him  of  the 
nervous  shock  her  daughter  had  received  on  the 
night  of  Mr.  Dabney's  funeral. 

Now,  to  mention  Parmelie  Rose's  name  would  be 
to  invite  the  doctor  to  refresh  his  memory  touching 
some  local  episodes  that  she  would  much  rather  have 
forgotten.  She  wished  Doctor  Yernon  had  not 
been  such  a  long-time  resident  of  the  neighborhood. 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  87 

But  it  could  not  be  helped.  She  must  consult 
him. 

Arrived  at  this  conclusion,  she  dashed  her  note  off 
rapidly  enough,  and  dispatched  it  before  she  went 
to  tell  Hetty  what  she  had  done. 

Winter  had  come  on  apace.  A  light,  dry  snow 
lay  in  patches,  like  linen  on  a  bleaching-lawn,  all 
over  the  hill  that  sloped  away  from  the  house  in 
every  direction.  The  yellow  and  maroon  chrysan 
themums  were  frozen  stiff,  and  bent  their  icy  crowns 
before  the  blast. 

It  was  easy  enough  to  find  Hetty.  Every  moment 
of  the  time  not  consumed  by  household  duties,  per 
formed  under  compulsion,  she  spent  in  moody 
reverie  over  her  own  fire.  She  was  sitting  there  at 
the  moment  her  mother  was  writing  to  Doctor  Ver- 
non  about  her,  her  feet  planted  on  the  low  brass 
fender,  her  hands  folded  over  an  o^en  book  in  her 
lap,  her  large  eyes  fixed  immovably  on  the  dancing 
flames  made  by  the  logs  of  cedar  and  pine,  which 
filled  her  room  with  fragrance,  light  and  warmth. 

The  book  upon  which  her  hands  lay  folded  was 
the  small  black  quarto  which  old  Lucy  had  put  into 
her  hands  the  night  of  the  funeral.  She  had  been 
going  over  its  pages  for  the  hundredth  time,  trying 
to  discover  the  secret  of  its  importance  to  her  Cousin 
Archibald.  That  such  a  secret  existed,  no  number 
of  failures  to  detect  it  could  make  her  doubt.  She 
wished  she  had  asked  the  old  woman  more  about  it. 


$g  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

She  certainly  would  have  done  so  had  she  known 
she  was  not  to  see  her  any  more.  Old  Lucy  had 
disappeared  from  the  house-force  before  Hetty  came 
out  of  her  room  the  next  morning.  When  she  had 
asked  her  mother  about  her,  Mrs.  Ogden  had  said 
that  Lucy  had  asked  permission  to  visit  her  children 
on  the  Creek  Place,  and  as  she  was  getting  old  and 
childish,  she  (Mrs.  Ogden)  had  consented  to  have 
her  put  in  charge  of  the  day-nursery  on  the  Creek 
Place.  So  she  was  not  coming  back.- 

Hetty  was  aware  that  the  property  they  had  come 
into  so  suddenly  included  several  plantations. 
Where  the  Creek  Place  was  she  did  not  have  the  re 
motest  idea,  but  she  hoped  old  Lucy  would  be  happy 
there  among  her  children.  Xo  one  seemed  to  think 
it  worth  their  while  here  to  tell  her  good-by.  She 
wished  they  had  come  to  the  old  place  in  summer, 
instead  of  winter.  The  old  house  was  full  of 
wrhispers  and  sighs  and  unaccountable  noises.  Her 
mother  said  it  was  the  rats  she  heard  in  the  wain 
scoting,  or  the  s\vallows  up  in  the  tall  chimney,  or— 
there  it  was  again ! 

She  sprang  to  her  feet ;  the  book  fell  to  the  floor. 
She  clasped  her  hands  to  her  heart  and  stood  listen 
ing,  with  every  nerve  strained.  Rats  did  not  make 
so  bold  in  midday.  There  was  a  slow,  cautious 
sound  of  steps,  apparently  immediately  over  her 
head — a  soft,  stealthy  tread,  like  that  of  a  beast 
in  its  lair. 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  gg 

Then  the  muffled  tones  of  a  voice  now  lifted  in 
supplication,  now  lending  itself  to  imprecation !  No 
words  !  Only  the  distressed  whisperings  of  a  soul  in 
travail.  She  was  not  listening  to  it  for  the  first 
time.  It  came  to  her  whenever  the  room  was  still ; 
whenever  she  was  alone  ;  more  often  at  night  than 
in  the  day  ;  loudest  and  oftenest  just  over  the  tall 
tester  of  her  bed.  She  had  told  no  one  about  it. 
There  was  no  one  to  tell.  If  she  told  her  mother 
she  would  call  it  nonsense,  and  perhaps  move  her 
to  another  room.  She  did  not  want  that.  There 
was  no  room  in  the  whole  of  that  big  house  where 
she  could  be  as  happy  as  just  where  she  was.  Up 
there  in  front  of  her,  over  her  mantel-piece,  hung  a 
large  oil-painting  of  her  Cousin  Archibald,  taken 
perhaps  just  before  he  went  off  to  study  medicine. 
Such  a  good  likeness  as  it  must  have  been  of  him, 
before  the  grief  of  his  uncle's  death  and  the  surprise 
of  their  usurpation  had  robbed  his  face  of  that  joy- 
ousness  that  made  it  so  beautiful  to  poor  little  Hetty ; 
silly,  loyal  little  Hetty,  who  had  come  to  love  that 
senseless  piece  of  canvas  so  dearly. 

If  she  knew  where  he  was  she  would  write  and 
as"k  him  if  he  did  not  want  this  picture,  and  the  one 
of  Uncle  Richard,  taken  about  the  same  time,  sent 
after  him.  But  never  a  line  had  come  back  to  tell 
them  where  he  was,  or  how  he  was  succeeding,  or 
anything.  She  did  not  blame  him,  not  in  the  least ! 
There  was  no  place  in  her  heart  where  blame  for 


00  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

him  could  find  lodgment.  There  was  an  old  school- 
desk  of  his  in  one  corner  of  this  room,  too,  full  of  a 
boy's  marvelous  accumulation  of  things  useful  and 
useless,  pretty  and  hideous.  It  had  been  unlocked 
when  Hetty  came  into  possession  of  this  room.  Ko 
one  laid  any  special  store  by  it  or  its  contents.  It 
was  never  unlocked  now.  The  key  to  it  went 
everywhere  that  Hetty  went.  It  was  on  a  ring 
with  the  rest  of  the  keys  to  her  private  property. 
When  she  was  not  studying  the  book  old  Lucy  gave 
her,  it,  too,  reposed  among  the  blotted  copy-books, 
the  cracked  slates,  the  backless  Latin  grammars  and 
the  chipped  marbles  that  filled  the  old  desk.  The 
sounds  overhead  ceased.  She  drew  a  long  breath  of 
relief,  stooped,  and  picking  up  the  fallen  book,  put 
it  back  in  the  desk.  Mrs.  Ogden,  coming  in  a  little 
while  later  on,  found  her  placidly  working  button 
holes  in  a  shirt  for  Bob.  The  black  rings  about  the 
child's  eyes  and  the  sad  compression  of  her  sweet 
lips  caused  her  mother's  cold  heart  a  severe  pang. 

"  Hetty,  my  dear,"  she  said,  sitting  down  by  her 
close  enough  to  clasp  her  with  one  arm,  while  she 
drew  the  sewing  from  her  hands  with  the  other, 
"  you  sit  too  steadily.  I  must  insist  upon  your  taking 
more  exercise.  I  have  sent  for  Doctor  Vernon  to 
lay  his  orders  upon  you." 

Hetty  looked  at  her  in  grave  surprise.  This 
solicitude  was  so  entirely  unexpected,  but  it  was  not 
upon  her  own  wasting  flesh  or  pale  cheeks  she 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  01 

expended  much  reflection.  She  answered  almost 
petulantly : 

"  I  don't  want  nor  need  Doctor  Yemen,  mother.  T 
wish  you  had  done  nothing  of  the  sort.  How  can  I 
take  exercise  in  such  horrid  weather  ?"  Then, 
without  waiting  for  her  mother  to  answer,  she  went 
on  hurriedly  :  "  Mother,  is  there  an  upstairs  to  this 
house — an  attic,  I  mean  ?" 

Mrs.  Ogden  looked  at  her  searchingly.  What 
had  such  a  childish  question  to  do  with  the  object  in 
hand — her  own  health  ?  "Was  Hetty's  mind  totter 
ing  ?  She  answered  her,  however,  with  readiness  : 

"  Certainly.  You  have  been  up  there  since  we 
came.  In  the  trunk-room.  There  is  no  other 
attic !" 

"  I  want  to  go  up  there  again,  mother." 

Mrs.  Ogden  rose  with  alacrity.  She  was  in  her 
most  propitious  mood.  She  looked  at  Hetty  with 
amiable  smiles:  "We  could  not  possibly  have  a 
better  day  for  overhauling  the  trunks.  The  things 
have  really  never  been  properly  aired  since  they 
were  put  up  there.  The  sunshine  must  be  stream 
ing  in  at  the  dormer-windows  right  now.  Come !" 

o 

They  went  up  together.  This  was  not  at  all  the 
sort  of  exploration  Hetty  had  planned.  She  wanted 
the  keys,  which  were  at  that  moment  lying  in  the 
soft,  blue-velvet  reticule  suspended  by  a  broad  satin 
ribbon  from  her  mother's  waist.  She  wanted  to  ex 
plore  every  crevice  of  the  old  attic  by  herself,  in  her 


92  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

own  fashion  and  at  her  leisure.  She  followed  her 
mother's  brisk  lead  with  listless  acquiescence. 

The  attic  was  an  immense  low-ceiled  affair,  filled 
with  the  accumulation  of  many  generations.  It 
extended  from  gable  to  gable,  and  was  lighted  by 
three  immense  dormer-windows  let  into  the  roof. 

"  You  see,"  said  Mrs.  Ogden,  cheerfully  doing  the 
honors  of  the  family  dust-hole,  "it  takes  in  all  the 
space  beneath  the  roof.  If  the  boys  were  the  sort  of 
children  that  we  were  (Mrs.  Ogden  always  spoke  of 
Hetty  as  her  own  contemporary)  this  would  be  a 
splendid  place  to  turn  them  loose  in  on  a  rainy  day, 
but  they  would  destroy  more  in  half  an  hour  than 
I  could  ever  replace.  I  have  to  keep  it  locked 
against  them.  They  are  just  getting  beyond  all 
bounds,  since  you've  dropped  their  morning  lessons. 
That's  one  thing  I  want  to  see  Doctor  Vernon  about. 
He  knows  everybody,  and  1  want  him  to  find  me  a 
tutor.  Somebody  must  take  those  boys  in  hand." 

Hetty  was  walking  listlessly  about  the  attic  while 
her  mother  was  talking.  There  was  nothing  un 
usual  about  its  construction.  Its  four  plain,  plastered 
walls  had  no  other  break  in  them  than  was  neces 
sary  for  the  accommodation  of  the  big  dormer-win 
dows.  Against  the  rough  plaster  was  hung  an  in 
describable  collection  of  things  that  to  some  one, 
at  some  time,  may  have  had  some  significance,  but 
certainly  had  none  to  the  two  women  Avho  were 
then  examining  them  with  indifferent  eyes.  The 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  93 

broken  furniture  of  many  generations  had  been  rele 
gated  to  this  hospital  for  incurables.  Files  of  old 
musty  newspapers  festooned  the  walls.  Eopes  ran 
from  corner  to  corner,  laden  with  dust  and  antique 
garments. 

kk  I  think  we  may  as  well  make  a  bonfire  of  that 
stuff,"  said  Mrs.  Ogden,  contemptuously  indicating 
the  pile  of  broken  furniture.  "  There's  not  a  piece 
of  it  that  it  would  pay  to  cobble  up." 

"  That  armoire!"  Hetty  was  looking  at  a  heavy 
piece  of  mahogany  furniture,  brass-mounted  and 
ancient,  that  stood  at  one  end  of  the  attic.  "  Cer 
tainly  you  wouldn't  burn  that  up  !" 

"•  That  arm.oi.re  is  all  right,"  said  Mrs.  Ogden, 
placidly  surveying  the  handsome  antiquity,  "  but  it 
is  something  I  do  not  feel  at  liberty  to  meddle  with. 
I  may  as  well  give  }Tou  its  history  now  as  any  other 
time,  so  that  in  case  you  should  find  yourself  alone 
in  the  attic  you  will  not  let  your  curiosity  get  the 
better  of  your  discretion  and  tamper  witli  it.  Your 
Uncle  Richard  once  thought  of  getting  married,  as 
you  know,  and  with  that  foolish  love  of  doing  the 
handsome  thing  that  got  him  into  more  than  one 
scrape,  he  sent  off  and  got  what  I  suppose  you 
might  call  a  supplemental  trousseau.  No  end  of 
magnificent  laces,  shawls,  silks  and  velvets  are  fall 
ing  to  decay  behind  those  mahogany  doors.  When 
the  affair  fell  through,  my  poor  brother  had  every 
thing  he  had  bought  for  his  bride-elect  locked  up  in 


94  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

that  armoire  and  put  up  here,  threatening  the  most 
awful  penalty  if  any  one  ever  dared  open  those 
doors. 

"  I  am  not  very  sentimental,  and  1  confess  it 
hurts  me  to  think  of  things  that  would  be  so  be 
coming  to  you  locked  away  in  that  senseless  fashion. 
Perhaps,  when  we  go  out  of  mourning,  I  will  muster 
the  courage  to  unlock  those  doors,  but  not  now,  not 
now  !" 

Hetty  looked  at  her  mother  steadily  while  she 
was  making  this  explanation,  and  without  a  word  of 
comment  she  turned  and  left  the  attic.  Mrs.  Ogden 
hastily  made  the  tour  of  the  place  and  followed  her, 
reaching  the  lower  hall  just  in  time  to  see  Doctor 
Yernon  laboriously  dismounting  from  his  buggy 
upon  the  lowest  step.  He  had  come  promptly,  in 
obedience  to  her  somewhat  urgent  summons.  The 
distance  was  not  great,  but  the  doctor's  years  were 
many. 

His  entire  willingness  to  diagnose  Miss  Ogden?s 
case  was  unavailing.  She  could  not  be  found.  Mrs. 
Ogden  dispatched  messengers  in  several  directions 
over  the  grounds  to  bring  her  back  to  the  house. 
During  their  absence  she  poured  her  other  troubles 
into  Doctor  Vernon's  patient,  if  not  sympathetic, 
ears.  He  had  been  friend  and  physician  to  the  Dab- 
ney  family  ever  since  this  handsome  remnant  of  it 
had  been  a  round-cheeked  girl — younger  than  the 
one  he  had  just  been  called  in  to  physic.  He  could 
not  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  a  Dabney. 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  95 

Mrs.  Ogden's  other  trouble  was  the  boys.  The 
doctor  quite  agreed  with  her  as  to  the  gravity  of  the 
situation.  He  stroked  his  gray  beard  reflectively, 
while  she  was  giving  the  latest  instances  of  reckless 
ness  and  contumacy  on  Hob's  and  Lem's  parts. 

"  If  you  are  willing  to  trust  my  judgment  as  to 
whether  a  man  is  a  gentleman  or  not,  I  should  say 
I  had  just  the  sort  of  man  you  want,  sitting  in  my 
buggy,  holding  Othe  reins.  I  call  him  my  medical 
student.  I  picked  him  up  on  the  road-side  one  day 
last  week.  He  is  poor,  that's  evident,  but  he  is  well 
educated." 

"  Picked  him  up  on  the  road-side  ?" 

"  Literally !  Came  ven^  near  running  over  him. 
He  was  sitting  on  a  stump,  just  there  in  the  woods 
where  my  road  turns  off  so  short,  you  know,  and  he 
gave  my  horses  a  confounded  scare.  I  pulled  up  with 
a  view  to  blessing  him  roundly,  and  bawled  out  to 
know  what  he  was  doing  there.  lie  answered  so 
coolly,  '  Heading  Ovid,  sir !'  that  he  got  my  curiosity 
excited.  I  did  not  believe  he  was  reading  Ovid, 
though  he  did  have  it  open  in  his  hand.  I  believe 
the  fellow  was  resting  because  he  was  starved  out 
and  couldn't  take  another  step.  I  talked  with  him 
about  ten  minutes,  and  wound  up  by  telling  him  to 
climb  up  in  the  buggy  and  go  home  with  me.  He's 
a  gentleman,  and  an  educated  one  at  that.  I  was 
just  keeping  him  because  I  found  him  interesting, 
and  -I'm  sort  of  lonely  now,  since  Dick  Dabney's 


9G  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

gone ;"  the  old  man's  voice  fell  to  a  tender  pitch. 
"  Wife  and  I  are  getting  to  be  stupid  company  for 
each  other.  This  chap  talks  like  a  book,  and  says  he 
wants  work.  You  might  try  him.  You  know  he 
could  come  over  every  morning — walk  across  the 
fields.  I  shouldn't  advise  domesticating  him  here. 
He  seems  to  have  had  a  stunning  blow  of  some  sort. 
He's  evidently  in  trouble." 

"Why,  if  he  is  such  a  gentleman,  shouldn't  he  be 
domesticated  here  ?"  Mrs.  Ogden  asked,  thriftily  bent 
upon  striking  a  bargain  with  this  distressed  way 
side  savant. 

"  Too  good-looking.  He  couldn't  hurt  the  boys, 
but  Hetty- 

"  Bah  !  Call  your  young  man  in.  I  think  I  will 
risk  Hetty.  If  he  appears  capable  of  teaching  those 
terribly  unruly  boys  of  mine,  I'll  take  care  of  the 
romantic  part.'' 

Doctor  Yernon  left  the  parlor  to  summon  the 
young  man  into  Mrs.  Ogden's  presence.  He  came 
back  in  a  few  moments,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  a  tall, 
powerfully  built  }^outh,  whom  he  introduced  as — 
Mr.  Hugh  Maury. 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  97 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE    STORY    FINDS    A    HERO. 

DOCTOR  VERNOX  had  no  notion  of  assisting 
Mrs.  Ogclen  in  her  bargain-driving  with  his 
needy  protege.  Having  formally  introduced  "Mr. 
Hugh  Maury  to  Mrs.  Ogden,"  he  withdrew,  with 
the  words : 

"  When  you've  finished  your  talk  with  Mrs.  Ogden, 
Maury,  walk  down  to  that  point  on  the  river  I  drew 
your  attention  to  as  we  came  through  the  gate.  I 
want  you  to  see  the  water-view  from  that  promon 
tory.  Finest  thing  of  its  sort  in  the  county.  I'll 
drive  down  and  wait  for  you  there." 

Then  to  Mrs.  Ogden : 

"  It's  scarcely  worth  while  waiting  on  Hetty  any 
longer,  I  suppose.  If  she  has  made  up  her  mind  not 
to  materialize,  she  won't  do  it,  I  imagine." 

"  Such  conduct  is  not  at  all  like  Hetty,"  Mrs.  Og 
den  said  plaintively.  "  I  am  sure  she  needs  treat 
ment  badly,  doctor." 

"  We'll  have  to  set  a  trap  for  her.  When  you've 
caged  her  I'll  treat  her,"  the  doctor  answered,  tak 
ing  his  hat  from  the  chair  next  to  him  and  leaving 


08  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

the  room  with  the  slow  deliberation  necessitated  by 
superflous  flesh  and  multiplying  years. 

But  there  Avas  a  great  big,  soft  heart  hid  away 
under  the  doctor's  manifold  chest-wrappings.  lie 
and  Richard  Dabney  had  grown  up  side  by  side  on 
adjoining  plantations.  Almost  every  summer  day 
had  found  them  together,  either  smoking  their  pipes 
peacefully  on  his  gallery,  or  else  settling  the  affairs 
of  the  nation,  with  harmless  acrimony,  out  upon  the 
promontory,  where  the  fickle  breezes  always  blew 
freshest.  There,  with  contradiction  on  their  lips, 
but  amity  in  their  hearts,  they  would  wile  away 
hour  after  hour  of  precious  time  with  childish  disre 
gard  of  its  value. 

He  had  a  fancy  to  visit  the  old  bench  under  the 
oak-tree  once  more.  He  missed  "Dick  "  so  dismally 
yet.  It  would  be  almost  like  communing  with  him 
there.  He  would  scarcely  have  ventured  to  indulge 
this  heart-impulse,  save  under  cover  of  a  desire  to 
show  the  stranger  within  its  gates  the  most  beauti 
ful  feature  of  the  Dabney  estate.  He  drove  slowly 
down  the  slippery,  sloping  hill-side  road  to  the  level 
plateau  that  lay  at  its  feet  and  spread  to  the  river's 
bank.  Here,  turning  the  buggy  so  as  to  get  the 
wintry  wind  at  its  back,  the  old  man  folded  his  fur- 
gloved  hands  over  the  lap-robe  and  waited  patiently 
for  his  guest. 

Back  there  in  the  parlor,  Hugh  Maury  was  saying 
to  Mrs.  Ogden,  in  a  straightforward  fashion  that 
did  him  decided  credit : 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  99 

"  I  should  like  very  much,  madam e,  to  accept  the 
situation  you  offer  me  on  your  own  terms,  but  I 
think  I  ought  to  tell  you  that  I  may  want  to  drop  it 
at  a  moment's  notice.  Somewhere  on  the  face  of 
this  earth,  I  do  not  know  where,  a  man  is  wander 
ing—if,  indeed,  he  is  not  dead — an  exile  from  his 
home  and  friends,  because  of  a  wrong  done  by  me. 
I  am  searching  for  him.  AVhen  I  find  him,  I  shall 
carry  him  home  in  triumph.  I  follow  every  clew 
that  chance  puts  into  my  hands  to  its  furthest 
end — so  far,  only  to  find  myself  further  astray  each 
time.  But  1  will  never  desist!  Xever!" 

"  A  strange  pilgrimage  !"  Mrs.  Ogden  murmured. 

"  Yes,  it  is  a  strange  pilgrimage.  God  grant  that 
it  does  not  prove  to  be  a  hopeless  one.  I  have  not 
told  my  good  friend  Doctor  Vernon  anything  of 
this.  His  taking  me  under  his  roof  was  an  eccentric 
exhibition  of  benevolent  hospitality  that  laid  me 
under  no  obligations  save  the  one  of  gratitude. 
Here  it  is  different.  You  propose  to  put  young  and 
unformed  minds  in  my  charge.  I  tell  you  candidly, 
madame,  that  if  I  did  not  want  the  money  with 
which  to  pursue  my  search  I  should  probably  de 
cline  your  offer  on  the  spot.  As  it  is,  I  say,  if,  after 
what  I  have  told  you,  you  are  willing  to  intrust 
your  boys  to  me  for  a  few  months,  I  think  I 
can  promise  that  neither  their  minds  nor  their 
morals  shall  suffer  from  the  tutelage  of  a  most  un 
happy  man." 


100  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

Mrs.  Ogden's  answer  may  not  have  been  dictated 
by  the  finest  sense  of  delicacy,  but  it  was  conclusive 
so  far  as  closing  the  interview  and  securing  a 
temporary  disciplinarian  for  the  boys. 

"  Your  story  certainly  is  a  queer  one,  but  I'm  just 
desperate,  and  1  do  believe,  in  spite  of  the  deed  for 
which  you  seem  to  suffer  such  keen  remorse,  that 
you  will  act  the  gentleman  as  long  as  you  are  under 
my  roof.  I  am  a  widow.  My  family  consists  of 
three  very  unruly  boys  and  one  daughter — young 
and  extremely  pretty !"  She  laid  special  emphasis  on 
the  adjective  devoted  to  Hetty,  and  fixed  her  hand 
some  eyes  scrutinizingly,  almost  threateningly,  on 
his  face. 

"  Madame,  the  three  unruly  bo}Ts  and  mademoi 
selle,  alike,  will  be  objects  of  respectful  interest  to 
me,"  he  answered,  holding  his  handsome  head  as 
haughtily  as  her  own. 

"  You  are  from  Louisiana  ?"  Mrs.  Ogden  said 
abruptly. 

A  dark  flush  mounted  swiftly  upward  in  Maury's 
face.  This  keen-eyed  woman  might  prove  more  of 
an  inquisitor  than  he  cared  to  encounter  daily. 

u  Yes.  Madame  is  a  keen  observer.  She  has  de 
tective  talents." 

"  Not  that  I  know  of.     But  your  '  Madame '  and 

'  Mademoiselle '  sounded  Frenchy,  you  know.  And 
then,  you  look  like  a  Creole,  with  your  intensely 
black  hair  and  eyes  and  mustache  and  your  olive 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  1Q1 

skin.     I  want  you  to  bring  the  boys  on  as  fast  as 
possible  in  French  Avhile  you  do  stay." 

"  While  I  do  stay  I  shall  spare  no  pains  to  give 
entire  satisfaction  in  every  particular,"  the  new  tutor 
said,  standing  respectfully  before  her,  hat  in  hand. 
'•  I  think  now  I  will  rejoin  my  friend  Doctor  Yer- 
non,  if  madame  will  excuse  me." 

Mrs.  Ogden  graciously  accompanied  him  as  far  as 
the  front  door.  She  liked  him,  and  she  had  gotten 
him  cheap.  Mrs.  Ogden  always  esteemed  those 
things  most  highly  for  which  she  expended  the  least 
cash. 

'•  Well,  then,  I  shall  expect  you  to  move  over  to 
morrow  with  your  trunk.  Oh ;  yes !  I  forgot." 
Hugh's  violent  blush  caused  her  to  amend.  "  You 
are  taking  a  pedestrian  tour.  Your  bag,  or  your 
bundle,  then.  And  I  wish,  by  the  \vay,  when  you 
join  Doctor  Yernon  do\vn  there  on  the  Point- 
there  !  you  can  see  the  top  of  his  buggy  from  here — 
vou  would  ask  him  to  drive  up  to  the  door  again, 
before  going  home.  Hetty  certainly  ought  to  be  in 
the  house  by  that  time." 

But  it  was  becoming  unsafe  to  predicate  Hetty's 
movements  upon  what  she  ought  to  do.  She  ought 
to  have  gone  docilely  into  the  parlor  and  submis 
sively  stuck  her  tongue  out  for  Doctor  Yernon's 
inspection,  and  assisted  him  in  diagnosing  her  case 
by  describing  her  physical  sensations  unscientifically 
and  minutely.  She  was  quite  well  aware  of  his 


102  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

presence  in  the  house,  when,  jerking  her  cloak  and 
hood  from  the  hall-rack,  she  had  fled  precipitately, 
desperately  bent  upon  avoiding  this  senseless  and 
useless  ordeal.  She  knew  better  than  a  whole  col 
lege  of  physicians  and  surgeons  could  tell  her  where 
her  own  trouble  lay.  Mystery- — a  thing  so  foreign  to 
her  sweet,  pure  nature,  that  she  recoiled  from  it 
instinctively — had  been  crowding  upon  her,  and  en 
veloping  her  in  even  thicker  and  more  impenetrable 
folds  ever  since  the  day  of  her  arrival  in  this  house. 
Her  uncle's  home  was  growing  more  hateful  to  her 
every  hour  she  spent  under  its  roof.  The  key 
which  mad  Parmelie  Rose  had  left  in  her  possession 
refused  to  lit  into  any  key-hole  among  her  uncle's 
possessions.  She  never  lost  an  opportunity  to  give 
it  a  surreptitious  trial.  If  that  key  and  that  book 
were  holding  between  them  the  secret  of  anything 
that  would  mend  matters  for  her  Cousin  Archibald, 
she  owed  it  to  him,  defrauded  and  banished,  to  pluck 
it  from  them. 

The  obligation  to  fathom  this  mystery  weighed 
upon  her  like  an  incubus. 

Old  Lucy  might  have  helped  her,  but  her  mother 
had  banished  her  to  a  far-away  plantation.  Par 
melie  Rose,  if  properly  approached,  might  still  do  so ; 
but  her  mother  assured  her  that  the  unfortunate 
creature,  whom  she  had  last  seen  standing  white  and 
ghostly  on  the  moonlit  lawn,  was  once  more  safely 
under  lock  and  key. 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  103 

Her  imagination  worked  unhealthily  and  with 
preternatural  activity  in  the  still  loneliness  of  the 
big  house,  which  presented  such  a  grand  contrast  to 
the  stuffy  little  home  in  Pittsburg,  where  the  air 
had  always  seemed  full  of  hurry  and  noise,  and  the 
boys  permeated  the  atmosphere  perpetually  with  a 
healthy  prosaic  element  before  which  every  vaporous 
fancy  fled  affrighted. 

Here  she  piled  fancy  upon  fancy,  intensifying  each 
unexplained  sound  or  sigiit  into  a  mystery  tenfold 
greater  than  any  that  actually  enfolded  her.  She 
had  made  many  a  fruitless  trip  to  the  bench  under 
the  leafless  oak,  hoping,  hoping,  hoping  that  Par- 
melie  Rose  might  suddenly  once  more  come  climbing 
up  the  tangled  foot-path  and  either  take  back  the 
key  that  tortured  her,  as  Blue  Beard's  key  tortured 
Fatima,  or  else  tell  her  what  to  do  with  it.  But  it 
had  been  months  now  since  that  morning  on  which 
so  much  had  happened  had  come  and  gone — the 
morning  when  her  Cousin  Archibald  had  kissed  her 
and  gone  away  from  her ! 

And  all  that  she  had  suffered  and  pondered  and 
vexed  her  heart  and  soul  over  since,  her  mother 
wanted  to  reduce  to  dyspepsia  for  the  doctor's  dis 
cussion  and  physicking !  She  would  not  submit  to  it ! 
She  sped  along  the  icy  hill-slope  toward  the  prom 
ontory,  her  red  cloak  making  a  bright  spot  against 
the  patches  of  snow,  her  eyes  bright  with  de 
fiance.  She  could  see  far  away  across  the  river  now, 


104  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

through  the  leafless  brandies  of  the  trees.  She 
could  see  a  large,  gray,  unpainted  house,  sitting  far 
back  in  a  weedy  garden.  It  was  in  that  direction 
that  Parmelie  Rose  had  disappeared  when  she 
climbed  the  other  bank  on  that  morning.  Perhaps 
she  lived  there !  Perhaps  there  was  some  one  on  the 
other  side  of  that  narrow  ice-locked  stream  that 
could  tell  her  more  about  this  woman,  who  seemed 
to  have  taken  a  life-and-death  grip  on  her  imagina 
tion  and  her  energies.  She  could  see  the  smoke 
curling  from  the  chimney  of  the  old  ferry-man's 
cabin.  But  there  was  no  boat  in  the  water  at  its 
foot  now.  Navigation  was  suspended  for  miles 
above  and  below  the  Dabney  place.  A  solid  sheet 
of  ice  spread  from  bank  to  bank.  The  boys  had 
been  boasting  of  the  skating  for  weeks  past.  She, 
too,  could  skate !  Some  sudden  impulse  sent  her 
hurrying  from  the  Point,  where  she  had  been  idly 
looking  out  over  the  frozen  landscape  with  her  cold 
hands  locked  under  her  bright  cloak,  downward 
along  the  steep  foot-path  that  led  to  the  river.  She 
went  with  reckless  speed.  Something  might  happen 
to  frustrate  her  newborn  plan.  She  clutched  the 
frozen  branches  of  the  bushes  as  she  descended,  to 
keep  her  from  pitching  head  foremost.  If  the  boys 
had  only  been  faithful  to  their  life-long  system  of 
carelessness,  she  should  find  a  pair  of  skates  waiting 
for  her  somewhere  about  the  bank  below.  She  was 
not  disappointed.  There  were  four  pair  lying  on 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  105 

the  bank,  thrown  pell-mell  where  the  skaters  had 
flung  them  off  after  last  using  them. 

What  was  to  hinder  her  crossing  ?  She  had 
always  been  proud  of  her  skill  in  skating,  but  had 
never  thought  to  put  it  to  any  practical  use.  It  was 
late — too  late  to  think  of  climbing  the  hill  on  the 
opposite  side  to-day,  but  she  would  extract  all  there 
was  to  learn  about  Parmelie  Rose  from  the  old  man 
who  had  ferried  her  across  that  day.  And  she  could 
insure  his  coming  for  her — Hetty — on  some  future 
day,  when  she  might  want  to  visit  that  house  behind 
the  leafless  trees,  in  case  that  really  was  the  mad 
woman's  home.  It  took  her  but  a  second  of  time  to 
buckle  the  skates  securely  upon  her  daring  little 
feet.  Another  second  and  she  was  out  upon  the 
ice ! 

Old  Isham,  reluctantly  rising,  with  his  ax  in  his 
hand,  to  obey  his  wife's  peremptory  demand  for 
more  lire- wood,  opened  his  front  door,  raised  one 
hand  to  his  eyes  with  a  gesture  of  surprise,  and  then 
called  excitedly  to  his  wife,  who  was  comfortably 
smoking  her  black  pipe  in  the  chimney  corner. 

"  In  de  name  of  won'erment,  Cicely,  come  yere 
an'  tells  me  w'at  you  meks  outer  dis  !" 

Cicely  came  promptly,  and  stood  looking  out  over 
his  shoulder,  quite  mute  after  one  violently  ejected  : 

"Delarwdl" 

The  banks  on  the  Dabney  side  of  the  little  stream 
were  precipitous  bluffs,  now  clothed  with  ice-clad 


IOC  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

shrubs  from  crown  to  foot.  Against  this  dazzling, 
glittering  background  a  brilliant  object  was  speed 
ing  toward  the  old  people  in  the  cabin-door.  It  was 
Hetty,  her  smooth  cheeks  aflame  with  color,  her 
long  black  braids  swaying  with  the  graceful  motions 
of  her  slender  form,  as  with  folded  arms  she  sped 
straight  toward  her  goal — the  cabin  door. 

The  exercise  had  done  her  good.  The  sense  of 
achievement  elevated  her  spirits.  She  laughed 
merrily  at  the  two  wondering  but  kindly  old  faces 
in  the  door,  stooped  to  disencumber  her  feet  of  the 
skates,  and  walked  rapidly  toward  them. 

"  I  am  Hetty — Mrs.  Ogdcn's  daughter,  from  across 
the  river.  I  have  come  to  see  you." 

Isham  touched  his  gray  forelock.  He  left  it  to 
Cicely  to  do  the  honors.  She  was  not  behind  him 
in  courtesy.  The  hem  of  her  short,  blue  cotton 
dress  came  in  sudden  and  fleeting  contact  with  the 
floor. 

"  You's  twicet  welcome,  Missy  ;  but  you's  done  a 
mouty  darin'  thing,  honey.  We  was  scaret  fur 

you." 

"  The  ice  is  firm.     I  know  ho\v  to  skate  very  well. 

and  I  wanted  to  talk  to  Uncle- 
Hetty  paused  courteously. 
"  Isham,''  the  old  man  said,  clutching  his  forelock 

again. 

"  Isham,"  Hetty  went  on,  "  about  a  lady  he  rowed 

over  to  our  place  on  the  day  of  my  uncle's  funeral.'' 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  10? 

"  Miss  Hose  !"  the  old  people  answered,  in  awed 
concert. 

"  Yes.  Miss  Parmelie  Rose.  "Where  does  she 
live  ?" 

Isham  shook  his  head  mournfully,  as  Cicely  an 
swered  : 

""What  you  pesterin'  'bout  Miss  Rose  for,  chile  ? 
She  cyan  do  you  no  good,  nor  no  harm,  nuther, 
now." 

"  Is  she  dead  ?" 

"  jSTot  dead,  but  lock  up  ag'in.  She  jus'  git  out — 
de  Lord  on'y  know  how,  dat  time — an'  'sist  upon  de 
ol'  man  tekin'  she  'c-rost  de  river  de  day  Mars'  Dab- 
ney  was  bury.  "We  b'longs  to  Miss  Rose.  She  our 
Miss',  you  know." 

"  But  where  does  she  live  ?" 

"  Dat  her  house,  Missy,  you  see  b'hin'  de  trees. 
She  live  thar,  ef  she  can  be  said  to  live  anywhar. 
She  lock  up  in  a  room  in  that  ve'y  house  this  minit." 

"Who  lives  with  her?" 

"  Mars'  John." 

"Who  is 'Mars'  John?'" 

"  One  uv  de  Lord's  own — Miss  Rose's  orudder. 
Mars'  John  don'  live  fur  nothin'  l>ut  t'  tek  keer  uv 
that  poo'  chile." 

Hetty  stood  silently  warming  her  hands  in  front 
of  the  wood-fire  in  the  cabin.  She  had  accomplished 
all  she  had  hoped  to  accomplish  that  morning.  She 
must  get  back  home  before  her  escapade  was 


108  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

ered  and  all  chance  of  repeating  it  prevented.  She 
was  ashamed  of  the  nervous  disinclination  she  felt 
for  the  return  trip. 

"  Does  the  river  remain  frozen  over  this  way  long 
at  a  time,  Uncle  Isham  ?"  she  asked  presently. 

"  Kot  long,  honey.  It  ain't  none  too  firm  now 
long  'bout  de  middle.  I  wisht  you  hadn't  riskt  it, 
Missy." 

"  I  found  that  much  out  when  I  was  crossing.  But 
I  am  very  light.  It  doesn't  take  much  to  hold  me 
up.  I  want  you  to  promise  me,  when  you  see  a  blue 
silk  handkerchief  waved  from  the  Point,  that  you 
will  come  over  right  quick,  Uncle  Isham — when  it 
gets  so  you  can  run  your  boat  again,  I  mean.  And 
to  show  you  how  much  in  earnest  I  am  about  it,  I 
will  pay  you  in  advance.  I  tied  fifty  cents  up  in  my 
handkerchief  for  you." 

Old  Isham' s  horny  hand  closed  promptly  over  the 
piece  of  silver,  and  he  promised  fervently  to  hold 
himself  in  readiness  to  obey  her  signal.  The  old 
people  followed  her  to  the  water's  edge  with  anxious 
faces  and  many  objurgations  to  be  "  keerf ul.  Spe 
cially  'long  uv  de  middle." 

She  laughed,  flung  them  a  merry  farewell  with 
one  hand  and  launched  herself  once  more,  gracefully 
and  skillfully,  upon  the  frozen  current,  quite  uncon 
scious  that  she  was  being  watched  by  two  pair  of 
masculine  eyes  from  the  Point  on  the  other  side. 

Hugh  Mauryhad  just  been  sweeping  the  opposite 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  iQ'.j 

bank  with  the  field-glass — without  which  the  doctor 
never  traveled — when  she  launched  herself. 

"  Is  }Tour  river  a  good  skating-rink  ?"  he  asked, 
watching  the  girl's  graceful  motions  without  aid  of 
the  glass. 

''  Perhaps  close  along  shore,"  the  doctor  answered, 
from  his  seat  in  the  buggy.  "  No  one  has  ever  at 
tempted  to  cross  it,  I  imagine." 

"  If  I  mistake  not,  some  one  is  about  to  attempt  it. 
A  young  girl  is  out  on  the  ice,  who  seems  to  be  mak 
ing  directly  for  this  shore." 

Doctor  Yernon  clambered  hastily  down,  and  joining 
him,  seized  the  glass  excitedly,  holding  it  for  a  sec 
ond  only  ;  then  his  arm  dropped  as  if  paralyzed. 

"  Hetty  Ogden  !  Is  the  child  insane  ?  My  God  ! 
is  there  no  way  to  get  to  her  ?  Can't  she  see  there's 
a  thaw  on  ?" 

He  was  familiar  with  the  downward  path,  but  it 
held  perils  for  his  aging  feet.  He  silently  pointed 
it  out  to  Maur}T,  who  bounded  down  it  like  a 
chamois,  with  no  distinct  idea  save  that  of  getting 
nearer  to  the  imperiled  skater.  She  had  come  to  a 
halt,  and  was  looking  down  in  terror  at  a  crack  which 
had  yawned  in  the  ice  since  her  crossing.  Her  cheeks 
blanched,  and  she  flung  up  her  arms  in  despair. 

"  Stand  still !     Perfectly  still !" 

It  was  a  command,  hurled  across  the  ice  at  her  in 
a  voice  she  had  never  heard  before.  She  obeyed  it, 
however,  instinctively.  It  took  Hugh  but  a  half- 


110  A  STRANGE  PIL  GRIM  A  GE. 

second  to  invest  himself  in  the  largest  pair  of  skates 
on  the  bank.  What  then  ?  He  was  no  expert.  His 
home  in  semi-tropical  Louisiana  gave  no  encourage 
ment  to  t*his  graceful  accomplishment.  He  had  ven 
tured  on  the  rollers  alone.  Would  that  slender 
knowledge  avail  him  in  this  terrible  emergency  ? 

Hetty  watched  his  motions  with  sickening  anxiety. 
He  was  slow  and  clumsy.  His  good  intentions  were 
no  less  apparent.  He  would  only  drown  himself  in 
attempting  to  aid  her.  She  looked  at  the  widening 
crack.  She  could  leap  it  and  reach  solid  ice  once 
more.  It  was  her  one  chance. 

Old  Isham,  standing  trembling  and  powerless  in 
his  cabin-door  ;  Doctor  Vernon,  standing  trembling 
and  powerless  on  the  snow-covered  Point ;  Hugh 
Maury,  straining  every  nerve  to  reach  her  before 
the  worse  should  befall,  saw  her  lift  her  dainty 
skirts  Avith  both  hands  and  leap ! 

There  was  a  flash  of  bright  red  against  the  glit 
tering  ice  !  A  dark,  yawning  hole  !  A  choked  cry ! 
Troubled  waters  !  Stillness ! 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  \\  \ 


CHAPTER   IX. 
HUGH  MAUEY'S  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

EVERY  one  was  talking  of  the  miracle  per 
formed  by  Mrs.  Ogden's  tutor  in  rescuing  her 
daughter  from  a  hole  in  the  ice,  regaining  the  shore, 
and  climbing  the  steep,  frozen  foot-path  with  her  in 
sensible  form  flung  across  his  shoulder.  Every  one 
wanted  to  see  the  man  who,  without  any  previous 
heralding,  had  come  among  them  to  make  sudden 
displa}r  of  such  muscular  heroism ;  so  that  instead 
of  harboring  a  seedy  savant,  kept  humble  by  a  sense 
of  friendliness,  Mrs,  Ogden  found  herself  with  a 
veritable  lion  in  hand. 

Maury  himself  could  never  tell  exactly  how  he 
made  that  last  desperate  plunge  forward,  grasped 
the  floating  ends  of  a  crimson  cloak,  and,  bringing 
Hetty  to  the  surface,  struggled  under  her  weight 
until  he  laid  her  in  the  doctor's  buggy  and  saw  the 
old  man  drive  rapidly  off  with  her  toward  the 
house. 

Then  he  had  time  to  think  of  his  own  chilled  and 
stiffening  limbs.  A  brisk  walk  across  the  sun-bathed 
fields  to  Doctor  Yernon's  house,  however,  completely 
restored  his  comfort,  and  there  he  remained  until 


112  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

summoned  once  more  to  the  Dabne}'  place  by  a 
formal  note  from  Mrs.  Ogden,  written,  evidently, 
under  the  impression  that  it  would  not  be  well  to 
dwell  too  long  on  the  romantic  episode  of  Hetty's 
rescue. 

k' Young  people  are  such  fools!"  she  had  said  to 
herself,  while  holding  her  sealing-wax  in  the  taper's 
flame,  before  sealing  this  note.  "  If  I  were  to  say 
much  more  on  that  subject  he  would  be  wanting  to 
marry  the  girl  off-hand." 

The  injuries  sustained  by  the  reckless  heroine  of 
this  escapade  were  such  as  to  necessitate  close  con 
finement  indoors,  principally  within  the  bounds  of 
her  own  room.  This  was  all  the  better  for  Mrs. 
Ogden's  purposes.  It  was  well  Hetty  and  the  boys' 
tutor  should  see  little  of  each  other  until  after  the 
romance  of  this  thing  had  become  stale  and  worn 
itself  out. 

Mrs.  Ogden  wasted  a  large  proportion  of  her 
time  in  guarding  against  the  most  unlikely  possibili 
ties.  Hetty  was  sitting  up,  enveloped  from  head  to 
foot  in  flannels,  thinking  dismally  of  the  long  con 
finement  ahead  of  her,  when  Mrs.  Ogden  informed 
her,  in  a  casual  sort  of  way,  that  the  boys'  teacher 
had  come. 

"  Teacher  ?  AVhy,  where  did  you  pick  up  a  teacher 
so  suddenly  2  I  was  just  thinking,  while  I  had  to 
sit  here  like  a  mummy,  I  might  try  the  boys  again ; 
but  they  are  so  unmanageable." 


.1  STRANGE  PILGRHJAGE.  H;j 

• 

"  Yes.  They've  gotten  quite  beyond  you.  They 
need  a  man.  The  young  man  you  put  to  such  in 
convenience  the  other  day  is  the  person  I  had  en 
gaged.  He  comes  over  this  morning.  By  the  way. 
J  have  been  very  patient  in  this  matter.  Do  you 
know  you  have  never  yet  explained  to  me  your  be 
ing  on  the  ice  that  day  ?" 

u  I  did  not  want  to  see  Doctor  Arernon.  You  said 
I  must  take  more  exercise.  I  found  Rob's  skates  on 
the  river-bank.  I  know  how  to  skate  very  well,  and 
the  ice  looked  as  firm  as  a  rock." 

Hetty's  answer  was  somewhat  disjointed  and  en 
tirely  unsatisfactory. 

"  Looked  firm !  I  wish  you  would  learn  that  you 
are  a  young  lady,  Hetty,  and  as  the  oldest  daughter 
of  my  house  have  a  certain  position  to  maintain.  It 
was  a  very  fast  performance  for  you." 

'•  What  is  the  teacher's  name :"  Hetty  asked, 
holding  her  blue-veined  hands  close  to  the  flames. 
"  I  suppose  I'll  have  to  thank  him  for  getting  wet  in 
my  behalf." 

4w  II is  name  is  Maury.  Heaven  knows  he's  been 
thanked  often  enough  !  I've  exhausted  myself !" 

-  Is  he  old  ?" 

"  Xo  ;  he  is  young." 

"  That  is  a  pity." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  I  think  an  old  man,  and  a  very  stern 
one,  would  be  the  best  for  the  boys.  Ugly  ?  You 


114  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

know  I  have  not  the  remotest  idea  how  my  rescuer 
looks — could  not  even  have  told  if  he  were  a  white 
man  or  a  black." 

Mrs.  Ogclen  reluctantly  admitted  that  the  tutor 
was  far  from  being  ugly.  Hetty  laughed  at  her 
dissatisfied  tones  as  she  accorded  him  an  unusual 
share  of  good  looks. 

"  He  isn't  conceited,  is  he,  on  the  strength  of  his 
"  Spanish  eyes  "  and  "  French  profile  ?" 

"  Ko.  At  present  he  is  a  very  modest,  Avell- 
behaved  voung-  fellow." 

«/  o 

"  But  you  don't  think  it  will  last  ?" 

"  I  am  afraid  not." 

"Why,  mother?  You  know  you  are  given  to 
forecasting  unpleasant  possibilities." 

"  Well,  people  do  make  such  fools  of  themselves 
over  a  man  that  shows  an  ounce  of  pluck.  Every 
one  that  calls  at  the  door  to  inquire  for  you  must 
be  furnished  with  every  particular  about  the  new 
man.  They  all  want  to  see  him.  If  he'd  killed  the 
sea-serpent,  or  exterminated  the  Indians,  or  built  the 
Pyramids,  he  couldn't  be  an  object  of  greater  curi 
osity." 

"  That's  a  tribute  to  our  family  importance,"  said 
Hetty  with  ironical  emphasis.  "Why  not  give  a 
dinner-party,  and  put  your  lion  on  exhibition  to  en 
tertain  the  company.  That  would  be  an  easy  way 
of  satisfying  public  curiosity." 

"  Do  you  know  that  wouldn't  be  a  bad  idea !" 


A  STRANO  E  PIL  GRIM  A  GE.  115 

Mrs  Ogclen  grasped  the  idea  with  avidity. 

Hetty  was  vaguely  aware  that  her  mother  had 
not  been  received  into  the  old  neighborhood  with 
open  arms.  This  thought  had  intruded  itself  among 
her  other  distresses.  It  must  be  that  everybody  felt 
the  property  belonged  by  rights  to  her  Cousin  Ar 
chibald.  Her  suggestion  of  a  formal  dinner-party 
had  been  made  in  pure  irony.  She  shrank  from  its 
execution  with  distaste. 

"  You  don't  mean  it,  mother  ?" 

"  I  do !"  Mrs.  Ogden  grew  more  positive  every 
moment.  "  Your  Uncle  Richard  has  been  dead  now 
for  nearly  five  months.  It  will  be  a  good  way  to 
find  out  who  is  for  us  and  who  against  us." 

"  Why  should  any  one  be  'against  us,' mother?" 

"  Because,"  Mrs.  Ogden  answered,  with  an  angry 
flashing  of  her  handsome  eyes  and  a  bitter  com 
pression  of  her  full,  red  lips,  "  there  are  some  people 
idiotic  enough  to  think  that  I  ought  to  have  staid 
away  from  the  house  I  was  born  and  reared  in,  and 
let  Archibald  Murray  turn  it  into  a  bachelor's  hall 
and  headquarters  for  revelers.  Because — oh— 

"  Oh,  mother !'' 

"  By  the  way,  speaking  of  that  young  man," 
Mrs.  Ogclen  opened  the  velvet  reticule  swung  to  her 
belt  and  peered  into  its  interior,  "I  got  a  letter  from 
Archibald  this  morning.  Not  much  of  a  letter, 
either,  lie  said  just  as  little  as  he  could  decently 
say.  Regards  to  you,  I  believe.  Wants  all  the 


116  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

books  with  his  name  in  them  forwarded  to  some 
place  in  Louisiana."  She  drew  the  strings  of  the 
reticule  firmly  together  once  more.  u  I  thought  the 
letter  was  in  here,  but  it  seems  it  is  not.  T  wonder 
who  he  thinks  is  going  to  take  the  trouble  to  pick 
out  and  pack  up  all  the  books  his  name  is  in,  and 
send  them  after  him  ?" 

"  I  will,"  said  Hetty,  not  looking  at  her  mother, 
but  fixing  her  serious  eyes,  which  seemed  to  have 
caught  the  glow  and  the  warmth  of  the  brightest 
flame  before  her,  on  the  fire.  "  I  hope  you  have  not 
lost  the  address,  mother." 

"I  guess  not."  Mrs.  Ogden  made  a  swift,  mental 
note  to  the  effect  that  so  long  as  the  girl  nursed  a 
foolish  fancy  for  her  exiled  and  invisible  cousin,  she 
was  in  less  danger  from  Hugh  Maury's  pensive  eyes 
and  tragic  beauty,  and,  with  the  diplomacy  which 
never  deserted  her,  she  concluded  to  utilize  it.  "  It 
may  furnish  you  occupation,  since  you  can't  get  out 
doors,  and  you  can  do  it  very  gradually,  you  know. 
I  will  find  the  letter,  and  give  it  to  }TOU  to  keep  until 
the  books  are  ready  to  be  shipped.  But  to  return  to 
that  suggestion  of  the  dinner." 

"  I  was  only  jesting,  mother." 

"  But  I  am  not !  I  don't  intend  you  shall  be 
buried  here  without  any  associates  of  your  own  sex 
and  age.  I  must  invite  the  Chaplains !"  Here 
Mrs.  Ogden's  enthusiasm  carried  her  to  the  extent 
of  demanding-  a  paper-pad  and  pencil,  by  whose  aid 


.1  STttAtfUE  PIL  G  RIM  A  Of!.  1 1  * 

she  rapidly  jotted  down  a  do/en  or  t\vo  names.  "  I 
shaVt  have  it  until  the  doctor  is  quite  willing  for 
you  to  participate,  for  I  mean  you  shall  make  a 
good  impression  on  these  people.  I  hate  them,  I 
hate  them  every  one,  but  they  shall  not  ignore  the 
fact  that  a  Dabney  is  still  at  the  head  of  this  house. 
There's  no  end  of  preliminary  labor  to  go  through. 
There's  the  silver  dinner-service — your  Uncle  Dick 
never  used  it.  So  hard  to  keep  in  order,  I  suppose. 
I've  got  that  to  overhaul ;  and  the  wine-cellar — I 
haven't  given  it  a  thought  since  we  came.  Dear 
me,  I  quite  enjoy  the  stirring-up  incident  on  getting 
ready.  Certainly  you  won't  be  more  than  a  week 
getting  over  this  horrid  cold.  I  can't  sit  here  all 
morning,  though.  I  believe  I  feel  as  if  such  a  load 
was  taken  off  me  by  knowing  that  the  boys  are 
shut  up  with  Mr.  Maury  in  the  school-room  that  I 
forget  I  have  anything  else  left  to  do.  I'll  go  right 
now  and  talk  the  whole  matter  over  with  Almira." 
Mrs.  Ogden's  spirits  grew  more  exuberant  mo 
mentarily. 

Almira  was  the  cook.  There  was  no  stemming 
the  tide  now.  It  carried  Hetty  back  to  the  dreary 
town-life  in  Pittsburg  when  an  invitation  to  dinner 
or  a  ball  had  been  sufficient  to  throw  her  mother 
into  a  flutter  of  girlish  excitement  all  day — turbu 
lent,  ill-regulated,  wasted  days,  when  the  boys  knew 
it  was  safe  to  ask  any  indulgence  at  a  time  when 
their  mother  would  grant  anything  to  keep  them 


118  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

out  of  the  way  ;  when  she,  Hetty,  had  vibrated  be 
tween  the  stores  and  her  mother's  bed-room  all  day 
with  little  paper  parcels — perhaps  a  bit  of  lace,  or 
an  artificial  flower,  or  a  fine  handkerchief,  or  a  new 
pair  of  light  kid  gloves.  She  could  never  remember 
an  invitation  finding  her  mother  in  a  state  of 
preparation.  Something  always  had  to  be  bought, 
something  always  to  be  mended,  and  a  great  deal 
always  to  be  condoned.  Then  the  long,  stupid 
evenings  that  she,  Hetty,  had  yawned  through  alone, 
with  the  tired  boys  all  asleep  in  bed  upstairs,  with 
the  street  sounds  growing  fainter  and  fewer  until 
it  seemed  as  if  she,  alone,  in  a  whole  townful,  were 
left  to  watch  and  wait !  It  could  never  be  quite  so 
bad  again,  she  hoped  and  believed.  But  if  this 
somberly  retrospective  view  she  was  aroused  -by  a 
chilly  sensation,  as  if  a  door  softly  opened  at  her 
back.  She  turned  about  in  her  chair  hastily.  The 
doors  were  all  closed,  and  the  long  stuff  curtains 
dropped  over  the  windows.  A  sigh,  twice  repeated, 
fell  distinctly  on  her  ears ;  then  the  room  grew  warm 
again,  and  she  heard  the  soft,  stealthy  tread  that 
had  bewildered  and  terrified  her  time  and  again 
since  she  had  occupied  this  room. 

Why  should  these  sounds  only  come  to  her  when 
she  was  alone  in  her  room  ?  Why  should  they  come 
to  her  when  the  bright  sunshine  was  flooding  the 
earth  outside,  and  the  old  house  instinct  with  life 
and  vitality  ?  Who  was  it  that  was  singling  her  out 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  \\o, 

for  these  eerie  visitations  without  making  clear  the 
object  of  them  ?  Was  it  because  she  had  remained 
so  stupidly  unresponsive,  showing  only  that  abject, 
animal  fear  which  flesh-hampered  cowards  displav 
toward  the  disembodied  spirits  of  their  nearest  and 
dearest  friends !  AVho  knew  but  it  might  be  her 
Uncle  Richard  trying  to  tell  her  something  to  do  for 
her  Cousin  Archibald?  She  stood  up  and  faced 
toward  the  spot  whence  the  chilly  breath  had  seemed 
to  come.  Her  heavy  wrappings  fell  from  about  her  ; 
her  long  hair,  which  had  not  known  the  bondage  of 
comb  or  hairpin  since  her  confinement  at  her  o\vn 
fireside,  fell  about  her  in  inky  waves.  Her  little 
hands  were  clasped  imploringly !  Perhaps  she  could 
woo  this  visitant  from  the  other  world  to  come 
again  by  showing  herself  fearless  and  ready.  She 
would  deal  with  it  as  with  a  kindly,  earthly  friend, 
who  had  somewhat  to  say. 

"Uncle  Richard!'' — it  seemed  so  strange  to  be 
addressing  him  audibly  !  lie,  whom  she  had  never 
seen  in  the  flesh ! — "  if  it  is  you  who  come  to  me. 
having  a  message  for  the  one  you  loved  so  dearly 
here  on  earth,  speak,  as  best  you  can,  and  I  will  try 
with  these  dull  ears  of  flesh  to  comprehend." 

Her  sweet  face  was  lighted  up  with  the  intense 
earnestness  of  the  soul  within.  She  stood  with  her 
head  slightly  forward,  her  lips  apart,  her  hands 
clasped,  entranced !  a  beautiful  incarnation  of  fear 
lessness  and  faith!  Xo  voice  spoke  unto  voice, 


120  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

Only  that  soft,  stealthy  tread  which  presently  died 
away  entirely,  leaving  her  bewildered  and  exhausted. 
The  stillness  of  the  room  terrified  her  after  her  snd- 
den  transition  from  the  exaltation  of  the  previous 
moment.  Even  the  boys  would  be  a  relief.  AVrap- 
ping  a  heavy  shawl  about  her  she  stole  across  the 
hall,  meaning  only  to  send  a  message  to  the  school 
room  by  the  first  servant  she  met,  asking  that  Lem 
might  come  to  her. 

She  heard  the  sounds  of  their  rough  mirth  out 
there  on  the  lawn.  Through  the  side-glasses  of  the 
front  door  she  could  see  them  snow-balling  each 
other  vigorously.  They  would  never  come  in 
answer  to  her  tapping  on  the  glass.  She  could  not 
go  back  to  that  room  by  herself.  She  must  find 
somebody.  Her  mother's  room  was  vacant.  She 
must  have  dressed  and  gone  somewhere  hurriedly, 
for  there,  thrown  across  the  foot  of  the  bed,  was  the 
blue  merino  morning-wrapper,  and  pendant  from 
its  belt  the  velvet  reticule.  Without  a  moment's 
thought  as  to  consequences  Hetty  possessed  herself 
of  the  bag,  and  assuring  herself  that  the  key  was  in 
it,  walked  rapidly  toward  the  steps  that  led  up  to 
the  attic. 

Her  route   led   bv  the   door   of  the  long-  room, 

V 

which  was  called  the  chapel,  for,  on  occasion  of  min 
isterial  visitations,  service  had  been  held  therein  and 
all  the  neighbors  bidden.  The  door  was  open  now, 
and  some  one  was  playing  on  the  little  cabinet-organ 


A  STllAtfGE  PILGRIMAGE.  \-\\ 

that  stood  at  one  end.  It  must  be  the  new  tutor. 
Hetty  peeped  cautiously  in  at  the  door.  lie  was 
more  of  an  expert  with  those  ivory  keys  than  he 
had  been  with  the  skates.  But  what  a  solemn 
taste !  Chopin's  Funeral  March,  however  well  per 
formed,  does  not  tend  to  exhilarate  one's  spirits. 
She  shivered  at  the  mournful  strains,  and  turning 
away  almost  ran  toward  the  door  at  the  foot  of  the 
attic  steps,  which  she  unlocked  with  trembling- 
haste.  She  must  explore  that  upper  room  once 
more.  There  was  no  one  to  hurry  her  now. 

Slowly  around  and  around  the  room  she  walked, 
passing  her  soft  hands  ruthlessly  along  the  rough 
plastering.  The  walls  were  intact.  She  reached 
the  brass-mounted  ar moire  and  stood  motionless  be 
fore  it.  Full  of  the  tenderest  reverence  for  all  that 
was  good  and  true  and  beautiful,  she  yet  had  a  mini 
mum  of  youth's  sentimental  deference  for  defunct 
romance.  Who  knew  but  that  behind  those  solemn 
mahogany  doors  might  not  lay  the  clew  to  the  mys 
tery  of  that  key — one  mystery  she  might  rid  her 
self  of. 

She  ruthlessly  emptied  the  reticule  of  its  contents. 
The  key  to  that  armoire,  if  there,  ought  to  be  rusty 
with  disuse.  On  the  contrary,  the  brightest  one 
there  fitted  into  the  lock  and  turned  with  the  ease  of 
constant  contact.  She  opened  the  doors  with  that 
noiseless  stealth  that  comes  from  a  sense  of  wrong 
doing.  She  did  not  attempt  to  vindicate  her 


123  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

conduct  to  herself.  She  acted  like  one  under  a  spell. 
She  was  impelled  to  do  what  she  was  doing — com 
pelled,  she  almost  said.  She  was  quite  sure  her 
Uncle  Richard  wanted  her  to  do  it.  ITow  was  she 
sure?  She  did  not  know.  She  simply  was.  She 
was  driven  forward  by  a  power  she  could  not  com 
prehend. 

Her  mother  had  not  overstated  Mr.  Dabney's 
munificence  to  his  coming  bride.  On  the  shelves 
lay  shimmering  satins  and  softest  velvets.  Long 
cloaks  hung  from  the  hooks.  Square,  flat  handker 
chief-boxes  exhaled  a  musty  fragrance  as  she 
touched  their  painted  lids  with  shy  fingers.  Feather- 
tipped  fans  and  yellow  crape  shawls  lay  in  close 
proximity — a  useless  accumulation  of  feminine  frip 
pery  toward  none  of  which  Hetty  cast  a  second 
thought.  Immediately  in  front  of  her,  on  a  shelf 
she  could  easily  reach,  stood  a  small,  black  ebony 
box  —  silver-mounted  —  whose  key-hole  seemed  to 
promise  an  end  to  her  long  search.  If  she  only  had 
not  left  the  little  key  in  her  room.  If  only,  again, 
she  might  seize  this  box  and  rush  back  to  her  room 
with  it.  That  she  might  not  do— the  risk  was  too 
great.  She  might  meet  her  mother  at  the  foot  of 
the  stairs,  coming  too  late  to  prevent  the  sacrilege 
she  was  committing.  She  felt  hastily  in  the  outside 

O  v 

pocket  of  her  wrapper.  She  had  been  sewing,  and 
perhaps  her  wax  would  do  her  good  service.  It  was 
there.  With  a  quick,  firm  pressure  she  brought  its 


A  STRANGLE  PIL  GRIM  A  GE.  }  03 

yielding  surface  to  bear  on  the  silver-mounted  key 
hole.  She  held  it  there  a  breathless  second.  The 
impress,  when  compared  with  the  key,  would  tell  her 
whether  she  was  right  or  wrong.  And  if  she  was 
right  she  would  know  at  last  irJnj  that  key  was  of 
such  vital  importance  to  her  Fncle  Richard  ! 

"Her  Uncle  Richard!'' 

It  had  only  been  in  thought  that  she  dwelt  upon 
the  name,  standing  there  in  presence  of  the  tokens 
of  his  tenderness  for  the  woman  he  had  loved ; 
but— 

There  came  to  her,  softly,  clearly,  more  nearly 
than  ever  before,  a  sigh ! 

A  weary  sigh,  long-drawn,  despondent,  there  from 
the  very  depths  of  the  big  cmnoire,  whose  sacred 
privacy  she  had  so  insolently  invaded .  She  recoiled 
with  a  scream  of  terror,  mechanically  turned  the 
key  in  the  door,  and  fled  back  down  the  attic-stairs 
precipitately. 

The  wailing  strains  of  the  Funeral  March  still 
floated  on  the  quiet  air ;  the  boys'  laughter  still  rang 
out  healthily  and  vigorously  from  the  lawn.  She 
flung  the  reticule  back  upon  the  wrapper.  In  an 
other  moment  she  was  cowering  over  her  own  lire 
again,  white  and  trembling. 

Xot  until  that  moment  did  she  discover  that  the 
waxen  impress  of  the  key-hole  still  adhered  to  her 
fingers. 

Going  to  the   place  where  she  always  kept  the 


]24  A  STRANGE 

little  key  secreted,  she  fitted  it  into  the  impression. 
They  agreed  in  every  particular.  There  \vas  no 
room  to  doubt  that  the  key  in  her  possession  fitted 
the  ebony  silver-mounted  box  in  the  anno  ire  up 
stairs.  They  belonged  to  each  other. 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  135 


CHAPTEK  X. 

A    MYSTERY    AST)    A    ROSE. 

WHO  WILL  be  sorry  to  hear  that  I  have  at 
last  secured  suitable  quarters  in  town,  where 
I  can  actually  hold  sway,  undisputed  sway,  over  a 
bed-room  and  an  office  of  my  own  f '  Doctor  Mur 
ray  asked  at  the  supper-table  one  evening,  when  lie 
had  been  domesticated  with  the  Glens  several 
months. 

"  I  will,  for  one,"  said  Mr.  Glen,  pausing  in  the 
operation  of  carving  the  chickens  before  him  to 
add,  "  You  are  not  really  in  earnest  f ' 

"•  Of  course  he  is  not !''  said  Mrs.  Glen,  looking  at 
Archie  reproachfully  over  the  silver  coffee-pot.  "  I 
never  could  have  imagined  how  handy  a  doctor 
about  the  house  would  be.  Paul  might  have  died 
in  that  spell  of  croup  if  you  had  not  been  immedi 
ately  on  hand.  You  must  not  think  of  stuffy  rooms 
in  town." 

"  Somehow  Bemish  always  managed  to  attend  to 
his  practice  from  the  plantation,"  Mr.  Glen  said, ';  and 
we  are  just  about  as  handy  to  Ilawkspoint  as  he  is. 
I  wish  you  would  reconsider,  Murray." 


126  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

"  I  don't  'ant  you  t'  go.  I  taut  fly  my  kite  when 
you  gone." 

Thus  Faul,  the  one  exponent  of  juvenility  in  the 
Glen  family,  contributed  his  views. 

They  were  all  sincere.  They  all  liked  him.  They 
all  regarded  him  as  a  desirable  addition  to  the 
family  circle.  They  all  wanted  to  keep  him  there. 
Ko  one  was  afraid  to  express  the  desire.  Only 
Theresa  remained  silent.  She,  too,  was  at  the  tea- 
table  ;  but  she  did  not  even  add  a  polite  protest  to 
the  friendly  chorus  of  regret.  She  sat  playing  with 
her  tea-spoon  while  the  argument  for  and  against 
Doctor  Murray's  moving  into  Hawkspoint  was  con 
ducted  in  a  spirited  fashion  by  the  rest  of  the 
famity.  Only  once  her  soft,  tender  eyes  were  lifted 
to  rest  on  his  face  for  a  fleeting  second.  It  was 
when  his  eyes  were  turned  from  her,  and  he  was 
listening  respectfully  to  her  sister-in-law.  She  was 
saying  to  herself,  almost  enviously  : 

"How  nicely  he  and  Fanny  get  on  together. 
Ho\v  much  admiring  stress  he  continually  lays  upon 
women  being  free  and  frank  and  true,  as  if  we  all 
had  the  freedom  to  select  for  ourselves  what  man 
ner  of  lives  we  may  lead." 

She  sighed.  The  softest  possible  exhalation  it 
was  ;  not  enough  to  stir  the  cascade  of  rich  lace 
that  fell  in  a  graceful  jabot  adown  the  front  of  her 
silken  waist,  but  Archie  caught  it  amid  the  clatter 
of  the  tea-table  and  the  contention  of  friendly  voices ; 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

caught  it  and  preserved  the  memory  of  it  as 
preserves  the  fleeting  perfume  of  some  rare  flower. 
She  was  looking  unusually  pretty  that  night,  not 
withstanding  the  extreme  pallor  which  rarely  ever 
forsook  the  smooth  oval  of  her  cheeks.  The  dark 
maroon  silk  dinner-dress  she  wore  gave  her  the 
touch  of  warm  color  she  so  much  needed. 

Doctor  Murray  had  come  to  like  his  host's  sister 
very  much  during  his  sojourn  at  Glencove.  lie 
found  her  refined,  high-toned,  gentle  to  an  excess, 
almost,  and  at  rare  intervals  disposed  to  exert  her 
self  for  his  entertainment  with  amiable  zeal. 

'•  If  it  were  not  for  that  hunted,  furtive  look  in 
her  beautiful  eyes,  if  it  were  not  for  the  conviction 
that  she  is  hiding  something,  it  would  be  easy,  in 
calculably  easy,"  Archie  had  already  told  himself 
any  number  of  times,  '•  to  fall  in  love  with  Theresa 
Glen.  But  she  is  not  without  guile/' 

It  was  this  consciousness,  and  the  fear  that  con 
stant  contact  with  so  much  s \veetness  of  manner 
and  physical  loveliness  might,  in  the  long  run,  under 
mine  his  cooler  judgment,  that  enabled  him  to  per 
sist  in  his  determination  to  remove  into  Ilawks- 
point  at  the  beginning  of  another  month.  Fleeing 
from  temptation,  he  called  it. 

"  Why  do  you  suppose  Doctor  Murray  is  so  per 
sistent  about  moving  into  town?"  Mrs.  Glen  asked 
her  husband  that  night  as  she  stood  plaiting  her 
long  hair  before  the  mirror  in  their  bed-room.  "  IIo 


128  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

is  twice  as  comfortable  here  as  he  can  possibly  be  at 
Mrs.  Burton's ;  and,  then,  Thersie  has  been  different 
since  he  came— entirely  different.  Don't  you  think 
so?" 

"Perhaps  Thersie  is  at  the  bottom  of  his  stubborn 
ness." 

"  Mrs.  Glen  stopped  to  look  at  her  husband  with 
her  white  fingers  interlaced  in  the  black  meshes  of 
her  hair.  "  What !  Pshaw,  what  creatures  you  men 
are.  You  think  it  utterly  impossible  for  a  woman 
to  come  in  contact  with  ono  of  your  sex  who  is  not 
actually  outside  the  pale  of  the  endurable,  without 
falling  in  love.  You  need  feel  no  alarm  on  that 
score  because — because,''  she  stopped  to  give  her 
undivided  attention  to  a  stubborn  knot  in  the  silky 
strands  of  her  hair. 

"  Because— well !  Bear  in  mind,  I  was  not  allud 
ing  to  danger  to  Thersie,  but  to  Murray.  Perhaps 
he  don't  care  to  tumble  in  love  when  he  has  nothing 
a  3'ear  to  marry  on.  Discretion,  valor,  that  sort  of 
thing,  you  know." 

"  Men  are  not  in  much  danger  from  preoccupied 
women,"  said  Mrs.  Glen  in  an  experienced  manner. 
"  Thersie  is  already  in  love  with  one  man.  She  has 
not  a  turtle-egg  sort  of  heart,  ready  to  take  the 
impress  of  every  finger." 

"  Yon  mean  Hugh  Maury  ?" 

Mrs.  Glen  rid  herself  of  the  snarl  in  her  hair  with 
a  merciless  jerk,  flung  the  mass  back  over  her  head, 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  139 

and  folding  her  hands  over  the  ridding-comb,  looked 
at  her  husband  very  seriously  : 

"  Charlie,  I'm  not  prepared  to  say.  But  I  am  ™v> 
pared  to  say  that  Thersie  has  been  a  different  cr--**- 
ure  since  that  affair  at  the  fish-fry.  Whether  it  was 
George  Bemish  or  Hugh  Maury,  I  do  not  know.  I 
do  not  believe  that  it  was  simply  the  death  of  that 
horrid  little  creature  who  spoke  to  her  so  insultingly 
that  day.  She  would  have  gotten  over  that  alone. 
She  does  not  get  over  this  at  all,  though.  Did  you 
notice  how  pale  she  looked  at  the  tea-table  ?" 

"  I  did.  But  then  Thersie  never  was  very  high- 
colored,  you  know." 

•'  I  know  that  as  well  as  vou  do.     Do  you  know 

«/  */ 

what  day  of  the  month  this  is  V 

"  'Pon  honor,  I  hadn't  given  it  a  thought." 
k%  Well,  I  have.  It  is  always,  as  the  time  of  the 
month  returns  in  which  that  tragedy  was  enacted, 
when  Theresa  is  at  her  worst.  She  was  ghostly  to 
night.  If  it  had  not  been  for  that  red  dress  she  had 
on,  you  would  have  been  compelled  to  notice  it. 
But  men  never  notice  anything  less  conspicuous  than 
the  nose  on  one's  face." 

Mr.  Glen  whistled  prolongedly  and  softly — a 
sure  sign  of  perplexity  with  him.  IVIrs.  Glen  com 
pleted  her  arrangements  for  retiring  before  speaking 
again  : 

"  I  wish  it  were  possible  to  keep  him  here.  He 
does  us  all  good.  So  lively  and  cheerful  in  spite  of 
the  great  change  in  his  circumstances— 


130  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

"Murray's  every  inch  a  man,"  said  Mr.  Glen 
enthusiastically,  snapping  his  wife's  sentence  in  two; 
"  and  while  Thersie  is  in  no  manner  of  danger  from 
him,  he  does  her  good.  Young  people  need  young 
people.  Young  girls  need  }roung  men.  They  sup 
plement  each  other.  She  likes  to  play  for  him.  She 
likes  to  beat  him  at  croquet.  She  likes  to  listen 
while  lie  is  telling  you  ox  the  pranks  the  medical 
students  were  always  playing. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Glen  reflectively,  standing  his 
empty  shoes  side  by  side,  "  we'll  make  another 
onslaught  to-morrow  and  see  if  we  can't  keep  him. 
I'm  not  averse  to  his  company  myself." 

All  unconscious  of  this  flattering  discussion,  the 
subject  of  it  was  at  the  same  time  pondering  his 
proposed  removal  no  less  earnestly.  It  was  Archie's 
self-indulgent  practice  to  envelop  all  his  reveries  in 
tobacco-smoke.  He  was  quite  sure  he  was  far 
enough  away  from  the  rest  of  the  household  to 
render  a  consolatory  pipe  safe.  It  would  help  him 
to  a  decision. 

Notwithstanding  the  fact  that  the  calendar 
pointed  to  the  last  day  of  February,  there  was  what 
Mr.  Glen  called  a  "  mild  snap  "  on,  and  he  raised  one 
of  the  side-windows  in  his  room  to  permit  the  fumes 
of  tobacco  to  escape. 

His  brain  worked  actively  as  he  sat  there  in  the 
big  chair  he  had  drawn  close  to  the  open  window 
and  tilted  back  luxuriously  against  the  projection 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  13 \ 

made  by  the  inside  chimney.  He  was  a  trifle  nerv 
ous  about  this  proposed  move  into  town.  It  might 
be  to  his  disadvantage ;  he  could  not  tell.  He  won 
dered  if  he  ever  would  feel  settled  again.  The  coin 
ing  move  naturally  carried  him  back  to  the  last  one. 
He  often  thought  of  the  old,  peaceful  life  he  and 
his  Uncle  Richard  had  led  together.  "  Led  it,"  he 
bitterly  reflected,  "'as  if  it  had  been  for  all  time  and 
eternity,  too,  with  no  dream  of  change  or  disaster." 
He  tried  to  fancy  the  old  home  under  the  new  or 
der.  That  brought  his  Aunt  Agnes  on  the  scene, 
and  those  awful  boys,  and  Hetty !  Pretty,  sweet 
little  Hetty !  He  wondered  how  she  got  on  ?  "  Xice 
little  thing."  He  did  not  tarry  long  in  the  past. 
The  present  was  exigent — yet  even  its  exigencies 
were  held  in  abeyance  at  that  moment  of  subdued 
quiet. 

The  broad  beams  of  a  full  moon  bathed  the  peace 
ful  landscape  before  him  in  a  flood  of  serene  light. 
There  was  nothing  very  novel  or  fascinating  in  the 
outlook  ;  but  he  had  been  so  battered  and  buffeted 
about  of  late  that  his  brightening  prospects  had  a 
soothing  tendency,  and  he  pronounced  it  all  good. 
Beyond  the  trim  hedging  of  Osage  orange  which 
inclosed  the  yard  premises  lay  the  broad  acres  from 
which  all  the  cotton  and  corn  had  been  garnered. 
In  their  midst  nestled  the  whitewashed  village  of 
quarter-cabins,  gleaming  whitely  in  the  moonlight 
where  not  hidden  bv  the  locust  and  china-trees  that 


132  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

crowded  close  up  about  them.  Over  and  above 
them  all — cabins,  barns  and  cribs — the  stately  gin- 
house  loomed  in  magnificent  proportions.  Immedi 
ately  in  front  of  him  was  the  thickly  shrubbed  yard, 
its  conical  cedars  making  a  shadowy  showing  in  that 
obscure  light.  The  note  of  an  owl  floated  in  to  him 
from  among  their  branches.  He  hated  owls  with  a 
womanish,  unreasoning  hatred.  This  one  completely 
spoiled  his  reverie.  He  might  as  well  go  to  bed. 
He  leaned  out  of  the  window  to  draw  the  outside 
shutters  together,  but  started  back  in  startled  sur 
prise  and  stood  motionless,  a  few  paces  removed 
from  the  window. 

There,  coming  slowly  around  the  corner  of  the 
house,  by  way  of  the  veranda  upon  which  his  window 
opened,  was  Theresa  Glen.  For  a  second  she  paused 
irresolutely  in  front  of  his  window,  where  she  stood 
perfectly  motionless,  her  folded  hands  dropped  nerv 
ously  in  front  of  her.  Her  side-face  was  turned  to 
ward  him.  How  beautiful  its  clear-cut,  cameo  out 
lines  were  !  She  was  not  dressed  as  she  had  been  at 
dinner.  A  long,  trailing  white  wrapper  enveloped 
her  now,  and  about  her  head  a  fleecy  nubia  was 
wrapped. 

"  Perhaps,"  Archie  said  to  himself,  "  she  has  been 
enjoying  the  moonlight  from  her  own  corner  of  the 
veranda  and  fancies  every  one  else  has  retired,  and 
that  confounded  open  shutter  had  startled  her." 

Even  in  that  moment,  he  marveled  at  his  own 
eager  plea  for  her. 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  ^33 

But  he  was  mistaken.  There  was  no  hurryino- 
past  his  window.  Xo  furtive  sidewise  glances  to 
discover  if  she  were  noticed.  With  her  head  held 
slightly  forward,  in  an  attitude  of  acute  attention, 
quite  as  if  she  followed  involuntarily  where  she  was 
bidden,  she  passed  on  after  that  brief  pause,  with 
her  slim  fingers  interlocked  and  one  end  of  the  white 
nubia  trailing  along  the  floor  unnoticed. 

"  My  God,  she  is  a  somnambulist !'' 

Archibald  Murray  said  it  aloud.  Said  it  with  a 
ring  of  intense  anxiety  in  his  voice.  Should  he  fol 
low  her  ?  That  was  the  pressing  question  of  the 
moment.  There  was  no  mistaking  that  tense  atti 
tude — that  direct,  unfaltering,  swift  onward  move 
ment.  He  leaned  out  once  more.  Straight  for 
ward,  with  never  a  glance  to  right  or  left,  she  was 
moving.  What  was  his  own  course  ?  That  was  the 
perplexing  question.  Presently,  down  there  below, 
in  the  shrub-crowded  garden,  he  saw  the  gleam  of 
her  long,  white  wrapper  again.  The  nubia  had 
fallen  off  entirely,  caught  perhaps  on  the  thorns  of 
some  rose-bush.  She  was  at  the  gate ! 

His  decision  was  made  as  the  click  of  the  iron 
latch,  lifted  and  dropped  by  her  unfaltering  hand, 
told  him  that  she  was  once  more  abroad  by  herself, 
in  the  lonely  fields,  under  a  midnight  sky. 

The  iron  latch  of  the  front  gate  was  lifted  and 
dropped  once  more — this  time  by  Archibald  Mur 
ray's  cautious  hand.  He  would  follow  her,  discreetly 


i;U  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

and  at  a  distance,  but  near  enough  to  succor  her 
should  she  need  succor. 

He  wished  now  lie  had  made  up  his  mind  more 
promptly.  She  moved  so  swiftly  that  it  was  only 
by  the  white  gleam  of  her  draperies  that  he  could 
follow  her  motions.  "Was  she  going  to  the  tool- 
house  again?  He  was  familiar  with  the  route 
now — could  follow  her  lead  in  that  direction  the 
darkest  night ;  and  when  once  there,  would  he  be 
able  to  stand  passively  on  the  outside  while  she  was 
led  within  by  the  man  whom  he  had  never  yet  iden 
tified —  had  never,  indeed,  caught  but  that  one 
glimpse  of  ?  He  ground  his  teeth  passionately  to 
gether.  He  swore  to  himself  that  he  was  only  ac 
tuated  by  humanity  and  professional  curiosity ;  but 
his  blood  coursed  hotly  in  his  veins  at  the  thought 
of  having  once  again  to  witness  the  strange  scene 
that  had  greeted  him  on  the  first  night  of  his 
arrival. 

Perhaps  it  was  no  tryst  this  time.  He  stumbled, 
recovered  himself,  and  peered  eagerly  forward  amid 
the  gloomy  shadows  of  the  trees.  He  had  lost  the 
object  of  his  surveillance.  He  stood  still  for  a 
second,  looking  around  in  perplexity.  Could  she 
have  turned  back  ?  There  was  no  sound  of  crackling 
twigs  under  her  hurrying  feet  to  guide  him,  no 
glimmer  of  her  white  draperies  to  lure  him  on.  She 
had  taken  her  way  along  the  lake-bank,  outside  the 
Osage-hedging.  Perhaps  she  had  crept  through  some 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  135 

break  in  it.  A  false  step  to  the  left — another  halt. 
The  sound  of  oars  cautiously  plied  smote  upon  his 
ear.  He  veered  to  the  right  and  almost  ran  toward 
the  water's  edge. 

A  skiff  was  being  rapidly  rowed  away  from  the 
Glencove  shore.  It  was  already  several  yards  from 
the  bank.  He  could  not  see  the  oarsman,  for  the 
boat's  track  lay  among  black  shadows,  but  sitting 
mute  and  erect  in  the  stern  was  an  object  draped  all 
in  white.  That,  then,  accounted  for  his  losing  sight 
of  Theresa  Glen  so  suddenly  ! 

He  reached  out  his  hand  and  called  her  name. 
Only  a  dip  of  oars  ! 

He  stood  upon  the  bank  impotent,  foiled,  con 
sumed  by  a  surge  of  passion  which  fairly  surprised 
himself.  What  was  this  girl  to  him '(  he  asked  him 
self,  gnashing  his  teeth  in  fury.  Why  should  he 
care  what  evil  power  held  her  in  bondage?  He 
turned  and  walked  back  toward  his  room  blind  with 
impotent  rage.  He  could  not  sleep.  lie  could  not 
even  remain  in  one  spot  two  seconds  of  time  to 
gether.  He  was  waiting  for  something.  Waiting 
to  know  that  this  girl,  who  was  "nothing  to  him,'' 
was  once  more  safely  housed. 

The  moon  had  long  since  gone  down.  Black 
darkness  enveloped  the  house  and  yard.  It  was 
more  than  useless  for  him  to  peer  out  so  often  and 
so  eagerly.  He  was  waiting  ior  her,  She  came 
after  a  long  while.  A  swift  scwyln^  ci  feet,  the 


136  A  STRAFE  PILGRIMAGE. 

rustle  of  trailing  draperies,  a  faint  scent  of  roses, 
silence.  He  leaned  out  once  more  to  draw  the  out 
side  shutters  together.  A  lamp  was  suddenly 
lighted  in  a  room  at  the  end  of  fke  veranda.  A  ray 
of  light  shot  through  the  shutters  and  showed  him 
something  lying  on  the  gallery  floor  in  front  of  his 
own  window.  lie  leaned  out  and  picked  up  a  large 
red  rose.  Theresa  had  worn  one  like  it  at  dinner 
that  day.  He  would  keep  it ! 


$TRA2tGE  PILGRIMAGE. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

DOCTOR    BE3II.SH    CARRIES    HIS    POEST. 

OVER  THE  smooth,  dark  waters,  the  old  man 
rowed.  Rowed  with  the  long,  stead v.  de 
liberate  stroke  of  the  skilled  oarsman  who  has 
learned  that  haste  makes  waste.  Every  dip  of  the 
oars  sent  the  narrow-pointed  skiff  skimming  across 
the  still  lake  with  a  jarless  motion  that  might  have 
lulled  a  fretful  child  to  slumber. 

Motionless,  with  her  hands  folded  across  her 
knees  and  her  head  bent  dreamily  forward,  sat 
Theresa  Glen  spell-bound,  her  mind  led  captive  by 
the  stronger  mind  and  the  fierce  purpose  that  actu 
ated  the  old  man  opposite  her. 

He  pitied  her.  Pitied  her  for  the  helplessness 
that  made  her  his  tool  for  the  time  being.  Pitied 
her  that  circumstances  had  placed  her  in  possession 
of  the  awful  secret  he  was  bending  every  energy  of 
his  soul  and  faculty  of  his  brain  to  wrest  from  her. 
He  pitied  himself  for  the  rde  he  had  to  play  toward 
a  crirl  who  had  been  almost  as  his  own  daughter 


- 


before  these  latter  days  of  darkness  had  come  upon 
the  name  of  Beniish.  Cut  more  than  alL  above 
alL  he  pitied  the  son  of  his  loins,  who  was  hiding 


138  A  sTitANGfi  PILGRIMAGE. 

like  a  beast  in  his  lair,  suffering  the  unworded 
penance  of  a  life-sentence  for  a  crime  lie  had  never 
committed. 

"Whenever  he  felt  his  purpose  failing,  the  old  man 
had  but  to  think  of  George  wasting  away  in  his 
island  refuge,  to  feel  his  purpose  become  as  steel 
links  that  grappled  him  and  hold  him  fast  to  the 
one  only  object  of  his  existence. 

lie  landed  the  skiff  immediately  in  front  of  his 
own  gate,  and  almost  lifting  his  companion  across  the 
gunwale,  he  carefully  wrapped  about  her  the  long 
black-hooded  cloak  he  had  put  in  the  skill'  for  her  pro 
tection  when  starting,  and  drawing  her  hand  tenderly 
within  his  arm,  he  walked  swiftly  up  through 
the  avenue  of  myrtles  which  flanked  the  paved  way 
from  the  gate  to  the  house.  The  house  itself  stood 
dark  and  tenantless  before  him.  Xo  glimmer  of 
light  came  from  window  or  door.  There  was  no  liv 
ing  thing  within  it.  But  that  was  not  his  goal. 
Past  the  house ;  out  through  the  tangled  gardens 
that  had  once  been  his  pride  and  boast,  into  the 
wooded  meadows  beyond,  where  the  tall  trees  bent 
over  the  dark  waters  of  a  bayou;  on,  unswervingly, 
along  the  damp,  dewy  meadows,  to  a  spot  which  he 
could  never  pass  in  the  broadest  sunshine  of  the 
brightest  day  without  a  shudder  passing  through  his 
strong  frame  !  The  spot  where  the  Frenchman  had 
been  found  dead !  The  spot  where  George  Bemish 
had  been  seen  to  stoop  and  pick  up  a  gory  knife  and 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  '  130 

fling  it  far  out  into  the  waters  of  the  bayou  that 
had  held  its  secret  ever  since ! 

A  shudder  passed  through  Theresa  Glen's  slight 
form.  He  felt  it.  It  communicated  itself  to  him 
through  the  arm  she  was  leaning  on.  He  came  to  a 
sudden  halt  on  the  spot  he  knew  so  well.  IIow 
many  times  he  had  trodden  down  the  grasses  that 
sprung  to  hide  its  hideousness,  in  the  vain  search  for 
a  clew  which  nature  heartlessly  denied  him  !  He 
breathed  hard  and  fast!  What  if  his  will-power 
should  play  him  false  ?  grow  weak — too  weak  to 
enable  him  to  hold  her  mind  in  subjection  until  she 
had  yielded  up  all  her  knowledge  of  that  dreadful 
day  into  his  keeping  ?  It  was  the  supreme  moment ! 
She  had  escaped  him  before,  just  at  the  moment 
when  success  seemed  ready  to  crown  his  efforts. 
He  silently  invoked  aid  from  the  God  who  is  a  lover 
of  justice. 

Had  he  not  a  right  to  wipe  out  the  stain  with 
which  ignorance  and  injustice  had  blotted  his  boy's 
fair  fame  and  his  own  good  name  ?  There  must  be 
no  dallying  with  opportunity.  Xo  failure  now 
through  pity  for  the  innocent  girl  who  stood  by  his 
side,  powerless  to  escape  the  bondage  his  will  held 
hers  in. 

It  was  both  too  late  and  too  soon  to  think  of  her 
at  all.  He  needed  an  implement,  a  weapon,  if  you 
will,  with  which  to  batter  down  the  walls  that  were 
shutting  out  life  and  freedom  from  the  son  who  was 


HO  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

more  than  life  to  him.  He  had  found  it  in  tliis  pure, 
tender  girl,  and  he  would  use  it,  must  use  it,  as 
mercilessly  as  if  it  were  made  of  ruder  stuff  and 
colder  metal,  with  no  fine  edge  to  be  destroyed 
irreparably. 

"Just  here,'1  he  said,  tightening  his  hold  of  the 
cold  little  hand  that  lay  upon  his  arm,  "  the  mur 
dered  man  was  found  that  day,  after  the  fish-fry. 
It  was  growing  toward  afternoon.  You  and  Hugh 
Maury  had  started  home  in  his  buggy,  lie  had  to 
drive  through  my  fields  because  the  bridge  was 
down  over  Blade's  bayou.  George  Bemish  re 
mained  on  the  fishing-ground  to  see  the  rest  of  his 
guests  off.  The  Frenchman  had  left  the  ground 
long  before.  He  had  not  been  seen  among  the 
ladies  since  he  had  spoken  impertinent  words  to  you 
and  Hu^h  Maury  had  threatened  to  thrash  him." 

o  */ 

He  spoke  slowly  and  distinctly.  He  was  forcing 
her  backward,  cruelly  and  pitilessly.  By  some  out 
cry,  some  spoken  word,  she  should  commit  herself  to 
a  confession  from  which  she  could  not  draw  back, 
even  when  her  mind  had  once  more  resumed  action 
independent  of  him.  He  had  not  consumed  his 
days  and  wasted  the  hours  that  belonged  to  sleep 
pondering  this  one  subject  without  coming  to  some 
settled  convictions.  This  was  one  of  them. 

If  he  could  force  Theresa  Glen  to  live  over  airain 

D 

that  moment  of  horror,  he  might  free  his  boy. 
She   was   shivering,  but  mute.     The  night  wind 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  ui 

sighed  in  the  tops  of  the  tall  trees.  The  dark 
waters  of  the  bayou  murmured  softly  as  they  rip 
pled  against  the  gnarled  roots  of  the  water-oaks  on 
its  banks.  A  far-away  owl  hooted  dismally.  The 
stars  looked  placidly  down  from  serene  heights. 
The  old  man  paused  a  second  and  then  resumed, 
where  he  had  left  off,  in  a  slow,  steady  monotone : 
"  The  Frenchman's  heart  was  full  of  bitterness  at 
the  insult  that  had  been  put  upon  him  before  women, 
lie  was  walking  home  bv  this  same  road  when 

•> 

Hugh  Maury,  with  you  by  liis  side,  came  by  laugh 
ing  and  happy.  The  Frenchman  saw  you  and— 

He  stopped,  catching  his  breath  nervously.  The 
next  word,  if  it  were  the  wrong  word,  might  break 
the  spell  and  leave  him  powerless.  Her  voice  took 
up  the  ghastly  story  : 

"  He  laughed  —  such  an  insolent  laugh !  It  was 
as  if  he  were  hurling  insults  after  me !" 

How  strange  and  sweet  and  unreal  her  dreamy 
tones  sounded  out  there  under  the  distant  stars,  with 
no  human  ear  to  catch  them  but  the  withered  one 
of  an  old  man,  who  drank  them  in  thirstily.  He 
took  up  the  narrative  cautiously  : 

"  He  laughed— such  an  insolent  laugh  !  It  was  as 
if  he  were  hurling  insults  after  you.  It  stung  Hugh 
Maury  to  quick  wrath— 

"  Yes !" 

It  was  scarcely  more  than  a  gasp. 

"  He  drove  past  a  few  rods,  stopped— 


142  A  STBAXGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

Had  not  he  discovered  for  himself  the  trampled 
spot  where  the  impatient  horse  had  pawed  the 
ground  1  But  it  had  gone  for  naught  in  George's 

O  <J  C  O 

defense. 

"  Stopped  i"  she  echoed  him  in  a  frightened 
whisper. 

The  old  man  did  not  notice  her  interruption. 

••  Hugh  jumped  out  and  ran  back.  He  told  you  a 
lie !  He  told  you  he  was  only  going  to  speak  to  the 
Frenchman — no  more !" 

"  Xo  more !  no  more  !*' 

Was  it  the  night- wind's  mqan  or  a  woman's  depo 
sition  ? 

"That  was  all  he  did  mean  at  first.  But  his  hot 
blood  was  up.  The  Frenchman  was  tipsy  and  inso 
lent.  You  were  out  of  sight.  There  were  words, 
angry  words,  then  silence!  Xo  noisy,  ruffianly 
pistol-shots  told  what  had  happened.  "When  Hugh 
Maury  took  the  reins  again,  perhaps — 

'•  There  was  blood  upon  his  wristband !  There 
was  blood  upon  Hugh's  wristband !  Oh  !  Hugh ! 
Hugh!  Hugh!  Why  did  you  kill  him  >'' 

A  woman's  shriek  mingled  with  the  sighing  of 
the  night-wind !  The  spell  was  broken !  Shudder 
ing,  frightened,  aroused,  she  stretched  out  her  hands, 
swaying  like  a  storm-tossed  flower.  The  old  man 
caught  her  in  his  arms  and  hurried  toward  the 
house  with  her.  She  lay  across  his  bosom  a  dead 
weight.  He  stumbled  heavily  up  the  steps  with  his 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  143 

burden.  It  was  a  slight  one,  but  he  was  old, 
and  the  physical  strain  he  had  been  under  ever  since 
he  had  stolen  across  the  lake  for  his  captive  had 
been  great — he  was  aweary  of  lirnb  and  of  soul. 

He  groped  his  way  through  the  dark  halls  and 
laid  Theresa  tenderly  down  upon  a  sofa  in  his  studv. 
Then  he  lighted  a  lamp,  shaded  it  carefully,  inspected 
all  the  windows,  satisfied  himself  that  no  ray  of 
light  could  possibly  escape  through  the  drawn  cur 
tains,  and  applied  himself  to  the  task  of  restoration. 

'•  Poor  child !  poor  child !"  he  crooned  over  her, 
as  he  moistened  her  white  lips  with  brandy  and 
chafed  her  chill  temples  and  feet  with  his  vein- 
seamed  hands  as  tenderly  as  a  mother  could  have 
done  it. 

She  opened  her  eyes  presently  and  looked  lan 
guidly  about  the  room  without  moving. 

"  I  have  had  one  of  those  horrible  dreams  again ! 
Eosine  !  Eosine  !  wake  up ;  I  want  you !"' 

But  there  was  no  response  from  Eosine.  She 
raised  herself  upon  her  elbow  and  gazed  about  her 
in  bewilderment.  She  recognized  the  room  at  once 
as  the  office  in  Doctor  Bemish's  house.  Its  musty 
books,  glass  cases  of  vials,  electric  batteries  and 
other  appliances  had  always  been  objects  of  more 
terror  than  interest  to  her.  She  saw  it  now,  for  the 
first  time,  in  the  dim  light  of  a  shaded  lamp — it  did 
not  make  it  more  attractive. 

She  rose  and  came  toward  the  old  man,  who  was 


144  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

standing  by  the  mantel-piece  with  his  back  turned 
toward  her.  Had  it  just  come  to  him  that  he  had 
taken  an  unfair  advantage  of  her  2  In  the  moment 
of  achievement  had  remorse  overtaken  him  2  He 
did  not  stir  when  he  heard  her  call  the  maid,  who 
always  slept  within  her  reach.  He  did  not  stir  un 
til  she  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm  and  asked,  won- 
deringiy : 

"  What  am  I  doing  here,  doctor  2  How  came  I 
here  2  Why  am  I  not  at  home  ?" 

"  You  came  because  I  wanted  you,  my  child,"  he 
answered  with  infinite  gentleness,  covering  the 
hand  she  had  laid  upon  his  arm  with  fatherly 
caresses.  "  You  came  because  I  needed  you." 

"  But  how  did  I  get  here  2"  she  persisted,  looking 
around  the  dimly-lighted  room,  where  ghostly 
shadows  flitted  when  the  wind  turned  the  fire-flames 
hither  and  thither. 

"  I  brought  you  here  !" 

"  What  for  2" 

"  To  make  you  tell  me  the  truth  !" 

"  The  truth  2     The  truth  about  what «" 

A  look  of  horror  flashed  into  her  eyes  as  his  mean 
ing  broke  upon  her. 

'"  What !"  she  exclaimed,  recoiling  from  him  in 
horror.  "  You,  the  man  whom  I  have  looked  up  to  as 
a  father  —  you  have  brought  all  your  science,  all 
your  learning,  all  your  will-power  to  bear  upon  a 
weak  girl's  weak  brain,  to  force  from  her  the  secret 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  145 

that  lias  made  life  one  long,  hideous  curse  to  her ! 
You  have  stolen  the  truth  ;  now  what  use  will  you 
make  of  it }  Tell  me  that,  brave  scientist !" 

"  Think  of  George !"  the  old  man  pleaded,  quail 
ing  before  the  indignant  fire  of  her  eyes. 

"  I  did  think  of  him  when  I  stole  like  a  thief  in 
the  night  and  opened  his  prison-doors  with  my  own 
hand.  I  could  not  let  him  suffer  for  what  he  had 
not  done.  He  is  free.  The  world  is  large.  Doubt 
less  long  before  this  he  has  formed  ties  and  gained 
love  that  makes  life  bright.  I  made  him  free.  He 
has  not  suffered." 

The  old  man  groaned.  Her  words  conjured  up 
the  forlorn  figure  of  his  son  hiding  from  the  face  of 
his  fellow-men,  burrowing  in  the  earth  for  refuge. 
He  turned  upon  her  savagely  : 

"  You  made  him  free  ?  Perhaps  you  opened  his 
prison-doors  and  told  him  to  go  forth,  spotted  and 
stained,  but  free  from  danger  of  the  halter  !  Your 
fine  sense  of  justice  carried  you  but  a  short  way  on 
the  road  you  should  have  gone.  I  tell  you,  girl,  you 
will  never  know  what  it  has  cost  me  to  wrest  }rour 
secret  from  you !  But  it  is  mine — mine  at  last !  and 
I  will  proclaim  it  from,  the  house-tops !" 

He  laughed  triumphantly.  She  shuddered  and 
drew  away  from  him  in  terror. 

"  You  make  me  afraid  of  you.  I  do  not  recog 
nize  you.  You  were  so  kind  and  gentle  always." 

"Were!"  he  laughed  mockingly ;  "but  now  I  am 


146  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

going  to  be  just !  Just — only  just,  nothing  more ! 
Come !"  He  brought  forward  the  cloak  she  had 
worn.  "  I  must  get  you  home  before  I  rest ;  and  I 
am  tired,  tired — sick  and  tired.  If  it  were  not  for 
the  work  I  have  to  do,  how  eladly  I  could  lie  down 

/  o  «/ 

and  die." 

"Work?" 

"Yes,  work!  I  have  to  clean  the  Bemish 
escutcheon  before  I  die,  and  my  sands  are  running 
low.  I  have  to  tell  the  world  that  a  soft,  fair 
woman  has  held  justice  and  truth  balanced  in  the 
scales  against  a  lover's  welfare,  and  truth  kicked  the 
beam.  And  you,  of  all  women — soft,  tender,  pitiful — 
you,  whom  I  have  loved  as  my  own  daughter — you, 
to  shield  a  murderer  all  these  years  !" 

"  Hush  !  You  shall  not  pour  out  your  hot,  bitter 
accusations  against  me — not  another  one !  If  the 
powers  of  darkness,  which  your  learning  has  taught 
you  how  to  evoke,  have  given  you  a  triumph  over  me, 
it  is  a  very  poor  one.  If  I  were  asked  before  the 
tribunal  of  high  Heaven  if  I  believed  Hugh  JMaury 
to  be  a  murderer  I  should  say — yes  !  If  I  were  asked 
before  a  tribunal  of  men  if  I  knew  Hugh  Maury  to 
be  a  murderer  I  should  say — no !  I  saw  no  blow 
struck.  I  heard  no  outcry.  That  horrible  ride 
home  was  made  in  absolute  silence.  From  the  mo 
ment  I  sprang  from  that  buggy  at  my  brother's 
gate  up  to  the  present  one  I  have  known  no  more 
about  Hugh  Maury  than  you  do !"  she  gasped,  and 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  147 

went  on,  breathlessly:  ""Whether  he  be  dead  or 
alive  is  more  than  I  can  say.  I  was  his  promised 
wife.  He  knew  that  I  was  his  accuser  when  I 
drew  our  betrothal-ring  from  my  finger  and  flung  it 
from  me  as  we  rode  home  side  by  side  with  that 
ghastly  secret  between  us. 

"  I  hate  my  life !  If  it  were  not  for  the  sin  of  it, 
I  could  easily  fling  it  away  as  a  tiling  of  no  worth. 

I/  u  «/  O 

There  was  one  person  I  have  sometimes  thought 
it  would  comfort  me  to  go  to — one  whom  I 
thought  was  a  fellow-sufferer  with  me.  That  one 

O 

person  has  duped  me,  used  me,  handled  me  as  a  mere 
puppet,  and  would  doubtless  think  he  was  simply 
doing  his  duty  as  a  father  if  he  had  made  me  swear 
to  lies  while  he  held  my  will  in  bondage." 

"  Xo !  God  kftows  I  have  had  my  fill  of  lies ! 
The  truth  alone  is  what  I  have  punished  nvyself 
and  tortured  you  to  obtain  !  My  child,  you  wrong 
me!" 

"You  may  well  say  tortured.  My  brain  is  on 
fire !" 

He  looked  at  her  in  alarm.  Her  eyes  glowed  like 
coals  and  a  red  fever-spot  shone  on  cither  cheek. 
He  hurried  her  into  the  skiff  and  once  more  took  up 
the  oars.  It  was  with  tired  arms  that  he  made  the 
first  stroke.  lie  did  not  point  the  prow  straight 
across  the  lake.  He  would  land  his  patient-passenger 
immediately  in  front  of  her  brother's  gate. 

There  was  no  danger  of   discovery.     The  night 


148  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

had  worn  Avell  on  toward  morning.  In  that  rural 
neighborhood  there  was  nothing  to  keep  the  people 
abroad.  The  world  was  asleep.  He  rowed  silentlv 
and  vigorously.  No  words  passed  between  him  and 
the  girl  in  the  stern,  who  was  no  longer  erect,  but 
sat  shivering  and  sobbing  beneath  the  cloak  lie  had 
wrapped  about  her. 

"  Theresa,  my  child,"  he  said,  as  she  sprang  up  to 
leave  the  boat  as  soon  as  practicable,  "  I  may  not 
see  you  again  ;  you  know  I  am  not  the  doctor,  now. 
I  want  you  to  say  you  forgive  George's  father  for 
what  he  has  done." 

She  passed  him  without  response.  He  could  hear 
her  teeth  chattering  violently  as  she  stepped  beyond 
him  in  the  skiff. 


A  STHANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  149 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A   MYSTIFYING    DISCOVERY. 

A"  PULL  over  the  water  "  before  breakfast  had 
come  to  be  a  regular  practice  of  Archibald 
Murray's  since  he  had  been  among  the  lake-dwell 
ers.  He  was  up  and  out  earlier  than  usual  on  the 
morning  that  followed  his  futile  espionage  of  Theresa 
Glen.  He  had  spent  a  sleepless,  restless  night  try 
ing  to  decide  a  question  which  positively  refused  to 
be  decided  : 

Should  he  give  such  information  as  chance  had 
put  into  his  hands,  concerning  Miss  Glen's  strange 
trysts  with  a  man  unknown  to  him,  into  Leonard 
Glen's  keeping?  If  "yes,"  how  was  his  host  likely 
to  take  it  ?  If  "  no,"  where  would  it  all  end  for  the 
girl,  who  was  evidently  under  some  malign  influence  ( 
Alas,  for  the  woman  he  loved ! 

The  lily-pads  crowded  insolently  close  to  the 
banks  in  that  usurping  fashion  Nature  displays  where 
once  she  gains  a  foot-hold.  Those  Southern  lily- 
pads  were  huge ;  their  stems  penetrated  the  water 
to  a  depth  of  six  and  nine  feet,  and  their  green  disks 
spread  out  on  its  surface  in  a  compact  mass.  Archi 
bald  forced  the  boat  through  them  with  fierce  iinpa- 


150  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

tience  that  morning ;  lie  wanted  to  get  clear  of  their 
entangling  grasp  ;  he  wanted  to  get  from  under  the 
shadow  of  the  thickly-shrubbed  yard,  out  into  the 
middle  of  the  lake,  where  there  was  nothing  but  the 
clear,  June  skies  above  and  the  clear,  pure  water 
beneath.  The  water  was  transparent ;  there  were  no 
dark  places  there,  no  mystery,  nothing  baffling.  He 
hated  to  be  baffled. 

It  was  early — so  early,  that  the  spot  in  the  east 
where  the  sun  would  presently  lift  his  head  to  glorify 
the  world  was  enveloped  in  a  luminous  golden  haze. 
As  he  stood  up  in  the  boat  to  divest  himself  of  his 
coat  before  settling  down  to  the  oars,  the  tops  of 
the  trees  out  there  on  Alligator  Island  began  to 
shimmer  in  the  light  of  the  rising  sun.  The  conical 
Island  was  aglow  with  these  fiery  tips. 

Why  not  row  to  the  Island  ?  He  had  often  de 
clared  his  intention  of  exploring  that  small  king 
dom  in  spite  of  its  owner's  multiple  warnings  to 
trespassers.  He  could  scarcely  do  that  much  this 
morning,  but  at  least  he  might  row  around  it  and 
back  to  the  glen-landing  before  breakfast — a  meal 
which  was  aristocratically  late,  always,  under  that 
luxurious  roof. 

He  rowed  well.  The  exercise  was  delightful  to 
him  at  all  times ;  but  this  morning,  as  his  broad 
chest  expanded  with  every  stroke  of  the  oars,  and 
the  fairy  rings  curled  away  in  a  sparkling  procession 
from  the  deftly-feathered  blades,  he  was  conscious 


.-1  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  151 

of  a  sense  of  physical  strength  and  freedom  that  was 
exhilarating  in  the  extreme.  lie  could  row  on  thus 
forever  and  forever,  he  said  to  himself,  if  she  were 
but  sitting  there  opposite  him,  as  she  so  often  sat  at 
even-tide,  looking  sweet  and  calm  and  majestic— 
not  caring  for  idle  chatter  or  for  grave  converse — con 
tent,  as  he  was  himself,  to  sit  silent  and  listen  to  the 
soft  rustle  of  the  water  as  it  curled  away  from  the 
sharp  prow  of  the  boat.  It  was  at  such  moments 
that  he  felt  almost  sure  she  and  he  were  drifting  to 
ward  the  haven  that  true-lovers  ever  steer  for. 

lie  turned  his  head  to  note  progress  and  make  a 
fresh  estimate  of  the  distance  that  lay  between  him 
and  Alligator  Island.  lie  was  gaining  on  it  rapidly. 
It  lay  there,  bathed  in  a  flood  of  golden  sunlight, 
an  unbroken  mass  of  greenery.  Between  him  and  it 
he  noticed  a  dark  object  dancing  on  the  waves. 

"  Some  fellow  has  lost  his  skiff.  I'll  take  it  in 
tow,''  was  his  neighborly  resolution.  He  pointed 
his  own  boat  straight  for  the  dancing  object.  It 
was  bobbing  and  dipping  merrily  as  the  brisk  morn 
ing  breeze  touched  its  brightly-painted  sides,  danc 
ing  farther  awav  from  him  on  every  wave.  It 

~  V 

really  seemed  trying  to  elude  his  pursuit;  but  the 
strong-armed  rower  was  soon  alongside,  and  leaning 
over  he  grasped  its  chain,  which  was  fastened  by  a 
ring  in  the  bow. 

Archibald's  lips  turned  white,  and  his  vigorous 
frame  trembled  with  passion  as  the  little  craft 


152  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

swung  around  submissively  and  lay  broadside  to  his 
own  boat. 

There  was  a  woman's  cloak  spread  proteetingly 
over  the  seat  in  the  stern  !  There  was  a  dark-red 
rose  lying  stemless,  but  gemmed  with  dew,  on  the 
middle  seat !  There  was  a  bit  of  damp  cambric 
lying  on  one  of  the  thwarts!  He  seized  it  and 
spread  it  open  with  a  trembling  hand.  There  was 
an  embroidered  "  G  "  in  one  corner,  and  it  exhaled 
the  fragrance  she  was  so  fond  of — heliotrope !  The 
stemless  rose,  sparkling  there  before  him — had  he 
not  put  its  fellow  carefully  away  in  his  pocket-book 
before  going  to  bed  the  night  before '(  Oh,  fool ! 
fond  fool  that  he  was !  A  man's  heavy  buckskin 
gauntlet  was  pressed  into  either  oar-lock. 

"  Muffled  oars  !"  he  said,  grinding  his  teeth  in  im 
potent  fury.  "Curse  him — curse  the  hour  I  ever 
saw  her!" 

A  shrill  whistle  attracted  his  attention.  He 
raised  his  head  and  looked  toward  the  Glcncove  side 
of  the  lake.  The  whistler  was  not  there.  He 
scanned  the  main- land  on  the  opposite  side.  ]\ror 
there.  It  was  repeated,  then  followed  by  a  pro 
longed  "Hal-loo!"  in  a  man's  hoarse  voice.  lie 
turned  his  head  toward  Alligator  Island. 

There,  at  the  remote  edge  of  the  water,  stood 
a  man  waving  his  hat  and  handkerchief  energetic 
ally.  In  the  few  moments  of  his  absorption  in  the 
discovery  of  these  evidences  of  Theresa  Glen's  occu- 


A  £TKAtfGtf  PILGRIMAGE.  \fc 

pancy  of  the  bout  he  had  just  captured,  while  his 
oars  were  lying  idle  in  the  locks,  he  had  drifted 
sensibly  nearer  to  the  Island — near  enough  for  words 
to  come  to  him  distinctly. 

"  Kindly  fetch  that  skiff  this  way,  will  you  ?"  were 
the  words  that  came  to  his  ears  just  then. 

He  looked  away  from  the  man,  and  sat  with  his 
hands  folded  over  the  crossed  oars.  His  soul  wa ; 
in  a  perfect  tempest  of  conflicting  emotions.  "Why 
should  he  do  this  man's  bidding  ?  "Would  it  be  well 
for  him  to  come  in  closer  contact  with  the  man  whom 
he  believed  was  exercising  some  evil  power  over 
Theresa  Glen  ?  Would  it  be  safe  >  What  right  had 
he  to  resent  this  matter  ?  Why  should  he  care  '. 

"  I  will  pay  you  well  I"1  came  across  the  water, 
anxiously.  "I  have  no  means  of  getting  home." 

The  words  came  each  time  more  distinctly  to  his 
ears.  The  wind  had  wafted  him  nearer  still  to  Alli 
gator  Island.  He  turned  his  head  once  more  in  the 
direction  of  the  speaker.  He  could  see  him  per 
fectly  well,  now.  It  was  an  old  man — a  man  who 
stood  in  a  stooping  attitude,  and  whose  hair,  blown 
about  by  the  breeze  while  he  still  kept  his  hat  in  his 
hand,  was  perfectly  white.  Archibald  took  in  these 
details  deliberately.  Then,  from  an  impulse  inex 
plicable  to  himself,  he  placed  his  oars  in  position 
and  rowed  direct  for  the  speaker.  He  stood  up  and 
faced  toward  him  as  soon  as  practicable,  regarding 
him  with  a  fierce  sort  of  interest. 


LU  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

Yes,  it  was  an  old  man.  An  old  man  of  cour 
teous  mien,  with  a  kindly,  care-worn  face  and  a 
voice  of  extreme  gentleness.  A  gentleman,  to  all 
seeming. 

"  I  am  afraid,  from  your  evident  reluctance  to 
come  this  way,  that  you  were  in  some  haste  to  row 
in  the  opposite  direction,"  he  said,  clambering  stiffly 
into  his  own  skiff  at  the  earliest  possible  moment. 
"  I  am  exceedingly  obliged  to  you.  I  came  over  to 
this  brambly  bit  of  my  property  to  see  if  it  could  be 
turned  into  a  place  of  refuge  for  the  stock,  in  view 
of  the  threatened  overflow  this  spring,  and  I  care 
lessly  left  the  chain  of  my  skiff  around  a  bush  too 
weak  to  hold  it.  You  are  very  good  and  I  am  very 
fortunate.  I  thank  you  very  much  !'' 

He  had  the  oars  in  his  hands  by  this  time,  and 
was  evidently  not  only  ready  but  anxious  to  take 
his  immediate  departure.  He  had  accounted  for 
his  presence  on  the  Island  with  such  nervous  volu 
bility  that  Archibald  was  compelled  to  take  note  of 
his  uneasiness. 

"  "Who  are  you?"  he  asked,  bluntly. 

"  My  name  is  Bemish." 

"Doctor  Bemish?'' 

"  The  same  ;  and,  by  the  way,  doubtless  this  is  my 
successor."  He  held  out  an  unsteady  hand  across 
the  gunwale  of  the  boat  to  the  young  doctor.  u  I 
had  hoped  you  would  have  honored  me  with  a  call. 
I  am  glad  the  folks  have  called  you  here;  my 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  155 

day  is  done.  I  am  a  useless  old  hack.  My  son,  I 
wish  you  a  smooth  career.  I  hear  you  are  makin^ 

«  •/  o 

friends   fast.     Make    them    and    keep    them.     The 

neighborhood  needs  you.     I  am  your  well-wisher."1 

Archibald  looked  at  him  with  a  growing  sense  of 

o  o 

confusion.  lie  had  rejected  the  proffered  hand, 
which  no\v  lay  rigidly  clasped  about  the  oar.  lie 
prided  himself  on  his  skill  in  physiognomy.  There 
was  a  great  deal  to  be  learned  from  the  care-lines 
and  the  furrows  in  the  strong  face  before  him. 
There  were  lines  of  endurance  and  patience — there 
was  pathos,  and  weariness,  and  anxiety,  all  clearly 
mapped  out ;  but  he  should  not  say  that  the  man 
before  him  was  likely  to  act  the  part  of  the  foul 
fiend  toward  a  woman. 

"After  all,"  he  said  to  himself,  "am  I  not  manu 
facturing  my  own  misery  out  of  mere  scraps  and 
fancies?'' 

The  thought  tended  to  lighten  his  spirits  wonder 
fully.  Might  not  a  plain  talk  with  Theresa  make  it 
all  clear?  He  would  haye  it  that  yery  morning. 

All  this  mental  work  had  been  going  on  while 
Doctor  Bemish  was  formally  welcoming  him  as  his 
successor. 

"  Scarcely  successor,"  he  said,  unbending  from  his 
rigid  attitude.  "Perhaps  the  neighborhood  found 
it  needed  two  physicians.  I  haye  called  at  your 
place  twice,  both  times  to  find  you  out.  I  haye 
neyer  chanced  to  meet  you  in  town.  I  am  glad  to 
know  you,  sir." 


150  A  STtiANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

"I  never  go  to  town — never.  Things  have 
changed,  YOU  know.  Pardon  me  if  I  sav  I  am  very 

'      */  IV 

tired  and  feel  the  need  of  my  breakfast." 

With  these  abrupt  words  lie  dipped  his  oars  into 
the  water  and  bowed  stiffly. 

"'  This  is  a  bit  of  your  property  that  1  propose  to 
explore  some  day,  Doctor,"  Archibald  said,  tenta 
tively.  UI  know  you  warn  off  trespassers,  but  I  sup 
pose  that  is  to  protect  your  pecan-groves  and  timber, 
and  would  not  include  the  profession."1 

The  old  man  answered,  with  nervous  irritability  : 
"  It  is  an  impenetrable  thicket,  full  of  swamps 
and  bogs.  I  wish  it  were  sunk  in  the  lake.  I've  just 
satisfied  myself  that  I  would  not  even  dare  turn  my 
stock  loose  on  it  in  high-water.  They  would  bog  in 
its  morasses.  It  wouldn't  pay  you,  unless  you  are 
prepared  to  lose  all  your  clothes  and  some  of  your 
cuticle." 

"  You  seem  to  have  come  off  more  easily." 
"  I  only  skirted  along  the  water's  edge  this  morn- 
imr.     Moreover,  I  knew  every  foot  of  it  before  the 

O  f 

underffrowth    became   so    thick.      Thank    vou   for 

O  *J 

catching  my  boat.  Hope  I  have  not  made  yon  late 
for  your  breakfast.  Good-morning,  sir." 

lie  made  one  or  two  irresolute  strokes  with  his 
oars.  He  was  evidently  bent  on  seeing  Archibald 
start  toward  Glencove  before  he  took  his  own  de 
parture. 

"  For  some  reason,"  that  astute  observer  rvas  say- 


A  STRAXGE  PILGRIMAGE.  157 

ing  to  himself,  "  this  maker  of  mysteries  does  not 
want  his  Island  invaded.  I  shall  invade  it  later  in 
the  day,  and  explore  it  thoroughly." 

"  Do  you  take  such  long  pulls  as  this  often  ?"  he 
asked,  raising  his  own  oars  for  a  dip. 

"Barely  ever.  I  took  it  for  an  appetizer  this 
morning." 

Both  boats  were  well  under  way  by  this  time. 
The  men  touched  their  hats  to  each  other.  With 
every  stroke  their  paths  lay  farther  asunder. 

"  He  is  lying  to  me,"  said  Archibald,  looking  to 
ward  the  lessening  boat  which  the  old  man  was  vi£- 

o  o 

oroush*  rowing  toward  his  own  side  of  the  lake.  "  He 
has  not  come  from  his  place  this  morning,  unless  he 
started  before  daybreak.  He  has  spent  the  night  on 
that  Island." 

"  He  suspects  something,"  said  the  old  man,  with 
a  groan,  looking  after  the  lessening  boat  which  the 
young  man  was  vigorously  rowing  toward  his  own 
side  of  the  lake.  "  One  more  pilgrimage  my  poor 
little  Theresa  must  make;  then  I  will  release  her  from 
this  bondage.  Her  written  signature,  and  George 
is  free !  Poor  child — poor,  frail  flower !  If  I  could 
but  nurse  her  back  to  health  and  strength,  or  tell 
them  to  take  her  away  after  she  has  done  me  this 
last  service.  But  she  hates  me  when  she  is  at  her 
self—loathes  me  ;  afid  small  blame  to  her." 

There  were  anxious  eyes  and  anxious  hearts  await 
ing  Archibald's  return  to  the  house  that  morning. 


158  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

Mr.  Glen  was  standing  on  the  plank-staging  that 
ran  out  among  the  lily-pads,  for  convenience  in  get 
ting  in  and  out  of  the  skiff,  with  his  face  full  of 
gloom. 

"  What  an  infernal!}7"  long  row  you  must  have 
taken  this  morning,"  he  said,  testily,  bending  over  to 
expedite  Archibald's  landing  by  himself  pulling  the 
boat  close  up  to  the  platform. 

"  I  did  go  a  little  farther  than  usual ;  the  morn 
ing  was  tempting."  Then,  with  startled  emphasis,  as 
he  caught  the  anxious  expression  on  his  host's  face  : 
"  Nothing  wrong,  is  there  ?" 

"  Fanny  thinks  there  is." 

"  Paul  ?" 

"  Kb— -Thersie." 

"Good  God!" 

He  was  on  shore  now,  and  struggled  into  his  coat 
as  he  walked  hastily  toward  the  house  by  Mr.  Glen's 
side. 

"What  is  it?" 

"  That's  what  we  can't  make  out.  Fanny  says 
she  found  her  lying  on  the  lounge  in  her  room, 
dressed  in  her  wrapper ;  the  bed  had  not  been  slept 
in  last  night.  She  seems  to  be  exhausted — lies  with 
eyes  wide  open,  but  won't  talk." 

Mrs.  Glen  met  them  at  the  front  door.  Her  eyes 
were  full  of  tears  ;  she  advanced  impatiently. 

"  I  want  you  to  go  right  straight  to  Theresa. 
Something  terrible  is  the  matter !  I  can't  get  a 
word  from  her !" 


A  STHANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  151) 

He  needed  no  second  bidding.  Mrs.  Glen  pre 
ceded  him  to  the  wing-room  where  Theresa  lay  upon 
the  couch,  white  and  languid.  She  opened  the  door 
for  him,  closed  it  upon  him,  and  stole  softly  away. 

He  was  alone  with  her — his  beautiful  love,  lying 
there  looking  like  a  broken  lily,  with  her  thin  hands 
folded  over  her  bosom  and  her  white  lids  closed. 
He  knelt  by  her  side  and  called  her  name  softly. 

She  opened  her  eyes,  stared  at  him  confusedly  for 
a  second ;  then  a  rush  of  blood  swept  over  her  face, 
dyeing  it  a  deep  rose.  She  raised  herself  on  one 
elbow  by  an  evident  effort : 

"  Does  Doctor  Murray  come  here  as  a  physician 
or  as  an  intruder  ?"  she  asked,  icily. 

He  was  on  his  feet  now,  confused  and  remorse 
ful. 

"Pardon  me,"  he  said.  "It  was  brutal.  Your 
sister  sent  me  here.  I  came  with  a  heart  full  of 
anxiety.  You  were  lying  there  so  still  and  \vhite 
that  I  forgot  I  had  been  sent  as  a  physician, 
and  remembered  only  that  I  suffered  as  a — lover/' 

It  was  a  daring  thing  to  do,  but  it  was  involun 
tary. 

"A  lover?" 

She  repeated  the  words  softly — so  softly  that  they 
seemed  to  flutter  over  her  white  lips  of  their  own 
accord. 

"  Yes,  a  lover  !" 

He  was  on  his  knees  by  her  side  once  more,  hold- 


160  A  STKANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

ing  her  hands  ti^ht  clasped  against  his  breast.  She 
did  not  chide  him.  Her  eyes  were  looking  into  his 
trustfully,  serenely,  tenderly — yes,  longingly. 

"  You  do  not  know  what  you  are  saying.  Xone 
of  you  seem  to  sec  that  I  am  dying." 

"  Dying !  "NVhy,  what  wild  fancy  is  this  ?  You 
have  been  careless,  reckless — criminally  indifferent 
to  your  health.  See !" — he  stooped  and  picked  up  a 
little  slipper  from  beneath  the  lounge — ''  is  this  a 
thing  to  wear  from  beneath  the  shelter  of  your 
home?  Oh,  my  darling!  don't  be  afraid  to  tell  me 
what  it  means  !  You  are  under  some  spell  cast  upon 
you  by  an  old  man  for  purposes  of  his  own.  Let 
me  help  you  to  break  that  spell.  See!"  he  went 
on,  vehemently,  not  noting  the  wild,  hunted  look 
that  had  come  into  her  eyes, "  I  am  going  to  tell 
you  how  brutal  I  have  been !  I  am  going  to  tell 
you  how  I  thought  you  were  not  above  meeting 
your  lover  in  a  lonely  grave-yard,  or  on  the  shores 
of  the  lake  at  midnight — how  I  have  cursed  myself 
for  the  infatuation  that  made  me  love  you  in  spite 
of  the  things  that  told  so  against  you.  Only  this 
morning,  my  sweet,  when  I  found  these  witnesses  of 
your  presence  in  a  boat,  afloat  out  yonder  on  the 
lake,  I  could  have  killed  you  in  my  wrath ;  but  I 
said, '  I  will  go  to  her  and  ask  her  what  it  means.  I 
will  go  to  her  and  tell  her  that  by  the  mighty  love  I 
bear  her — by  all  the  agony  I  have  battled  against 
for  her  sake — by  all  that  a  man  holds  in  highest 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  IQ± 

esteem  in  the  woman  he  loves,  I  have  a  right  to  the 
truth !' " 

lie  laid  the  handkerchief  and  the  crushed  rose 
upon  her  white  robe. 

"  You  will  tell  me,  oh,  my  love,  my  incarnation 
of  purity  !  how  came  the  rose  you  wore  in  your  hair 
last  night — now  came  that  bit  of  cambric,  that 
peeped  so  daintily  from  your  silken,  bodice  last 
night— to  be  lying,  wet  and  crushed,  in  a  floating 
boat,  out  yonder  in  the  lake  ? — a  boat  whose  oars 
had  been  muffled  so  that  the  thief  might  easier  do 

o 

the  bidding  of  his  master — Satan !  I  have  suffered 
such  torments  for  your  sake  this  day,  my  darling, 
short  as  it  has  been!  How  could  I  remember  that  I 
was  but  the  doctor  to  you  when  they  sent  me  in 
here  ?v 

He  had  spoken  rapidly  and  vehemently,  carried 
away  by  his  own  passion,  swept  away  by  his  fierce 
desire  to  pierce  this  mystery.  Her  eyes,  which  had 
been  fastened  on  his  in  an  intense  gaze,  were  sud 
denly  cast  upward.  She  lifted  the  rose  on  high, 
laughed  hysterically,  flung  lier  arms  out  wildly, 
then  lay  still  and  white  m  his  arms,  with  closed  eyes 
and  nerveless  limbs. 


1G2  -4  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 


CHAPTER   XTIL 

A   VISIT    TO    ALLIGATOR    ISLAND. 

BY  THE  LORD,  if  she  cannot,  he  shall !"  said 
Archibald  Murray,  between  his  clenched  teeth, 
as  he  paced  the  long  gallery  at  Glencove  toward 
nightfall  of  the  day  that  had  left  him  worn  physic 
ally  and  mentally  and  stirred  his  fiery  nature  to  its 
depths. 

Mr.  Glen  joined  him  as  he  got  opposite  the  open 
fiont  door. 

"  How  is  she  ?"  he  asked,  anxiously. 

'•'  It  is  hard  to  say,"  Doctor  Murray  answered, 
gloomily.  "  She  seems  to  come  out  of  one  fainting 
fit  only  to  go  into  another.  I  should  say  her  nerv- 

v  «- 

ous  system  has  received  a  tremendous  shock.  I^oth- 
ing  but  the  most  absolute  quiet  can  relieve  her." 

"But  how  could  she  receive  a  nervous  shock f 
Mr.  Glen  asked,  in  an  irritated  voice.  "  Do  you  find 
the  material  for  nervous  shocks  anywhere  about  you 
on  this  sleepy  old  plantation  ?" 

"  Miss  Glen's  organization  is  a  very  highly-strung 
one." 

"  Yes,  we  have  always  known  that." 

"  But  what  you  do  not  know  is,  all  the  influences — 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  163 

the  exciting  influences,  I  mean — that  may  have  been 
brought  to  bear  on  it  to  produce  this  attack." 

"  Thunder  and  lightning,  Murray  !  don't  we — you 
as  well  as  I — see  who  she  sees,  and  know  where  she 
goes  and  what  she  does  all  day  long  ?" 

"All  day  long?  Yes,  pretty  much,  I  suppose; 
but —  He  broke  off  abruptly,  then  added, 

gravely  :  "  Glen,  I  wish  you  would  send  for  Bemish. 
He  has  known  3- our  sister  all  her  life — knows  her 
constitution.  I  should  like  him  to  see  her  just  as 
she  is.  I  quite  insist  on  it !" 

"  But  we  are  perfectly  satisfied  with  your  man 
agement  of  the  case !  Pray  don't  misunderstand 
my  impatience  just  now  !" 

"  I  am  not  satisfied  !  I  want  him  sent  for — I  told 
Mrs.  Glen  so  early  this  morning !" 

Mr.  Grlen  took  several  turns  along-side  of  Archi 
bald  in  silence.  It  was  not  hard  for  Archibald  to 
see  that  he  was  nervous  and  disturbed  about  some 
thing. 

"  Well,  what  is  it  2"  he  asked,  throwing  the  cigar 
he  had  been  smoking  as  a  sedative  far  out  into  the 
yard,  as  he  turned  to  face  his  host. 

"Bemish  is  a  confounded  old  churl!"  Mr.  Glen 
said,  explosively  and  inconsequently. 

"  Then  you  did  send  for  him  ?" 

"Yes,  as  you  suggested  it  and  seemed  bent  on  it." 

"  And  he  would  not  come  ?" 

"  No ;  confound  him !     Said  we  had  one  doctor  in 


164  &  STRASGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

the  house,  and  he  knew  the  case  did  not  require 
two.  Fanny  says  perhaps  it  was  because  she  wrote, 
instead  of  you." 

••  By  the  Lord,  he  shall  come !  I'll  fetch  him  my 
self!" 

Archibald  turned,  with  long,  fierce  strides,  toward 
where  his  hat  hung  on  the  rack  in  the  hall.  His 
eyes  were  aflame  with  anger. 

"My  dear  fellow,  you  don?t  think  the  case  so 
urgent  as  all  this  comes  to  ?"  Mr.  Glen  said,  follow 
ing  him  into  the  hall  with  an  anxious  face. 

"  Urgent  ?  Yes  ;  but  by  no  means  unmanageable 
to  any  one  who  understands  it !  I  confess  I  do  not. 
I  believe  that  Doctor  Eemish  does.  I  will  say  this 
much  to  you — that  I  never  thought  of  having  him 
called  in  until  I  heard  your  sister  mutter  his  name 
when  she  was  scarcely  conscious  of  what  she  was 
saying.  I  think  she  wants  him,  and  if  he  is  stand 
ing  on  his  dignity  on  account  of  my  presence,  then 
I  am  the  one  to  bring  him  down  off  his  stilts. 
That's  all  there  is  to  it !" 

Just  at  this  juncture  Mrs.  Glen  appeared  noise 
lessly,  from  somewhere  in  the  rear,  with  the  an 
nouncement  that  tea  was  ready. 

"  You  will  have  supper  before  you  go  ?"  Mr.  Glen 
said  to  Archie. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered :  ••  I  am  going  to  pull  myself 
across,  and  I  can  do  it  better  on  a  cup  of  strong 
coffee  than  without  it." 


-1  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  i£5 

"  Going  to  pull  yourself  over  where  ?''  Mrs.  Glen 
asked,  looking  disturbed.  She  could  not  endure  the 
Thought  of  his  being  away  from  them  one  hour, 
with  Theresa  in  such  a  strange  condition. 

"  Over  to  Bemish's.''  said  Mr.  Glen,  piling  provis 
ions  on  Archie's  plate  with  a  liberal  hand.  "  He 
thinks  that  Thersie  wants  the  old  man.  and  that  he 
may  have  some  professional  kink  in  his  head,  which 
he  calls  courtesy,  that  needs  to  be  straightened  out/' 

"  Oh."  said  Mrs.  Glen,  quite  reconciled ;  i;  but  why 
not  write  a  note  and  send  it  over  by  one  of  the 
boys  i" 

"  The  exercise  will  do  me  good."  said  Archie, 
gulping  down  his  hot  coffee  rapidly.  ••  I  shall  pad 
dle  over  in  the  pircgue,  as  Bemish  will  want  his  own 
boat  to  go  home  in.  There's  nothing  to  do  for  Miss 
Glen  but  to  obey  orders  you  already  have,  rigidly, 
until  I  return  with  Bemish." 

He  gave  these  last  directions  while  stuffing  his 
very-badly-folded  napkin  into  its  ring,  and  then  was 
gone. 

The  pirogue  which  he  selected  in  preference  to 
ihe  heavier  two-oared  boat  was  a  slim-pointed  canoe 
with  room  for  but  one  person,  and  was  propelled  by 
a  single  noiseless  paddle,  dipped  alternately  on 
either  side.  The  day  had  been  a  trying  one  to  him, 
and  he  doubted  his  ability  to  row  the  heavier  boat 
across  to  the  Bemish  place  and  back  with  any  degree 
of  promptness.  He  felt  savagely  disinclined  to  any 


ICG  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

companion,  even  the  humble  sort  of  a  negro  oars 
man. 

Night  had  fallen  while  he  lingered  over  the 
sapper-table — a  starless,  moonless  night  that  cov 
ered  the  watery  expanse  over  which  he  was  making 
his  way  so  noiselessly  with  a  black  canopy  that 
made  all  things  invisible.  As  the  pirogue  shot  over 
the  water,  Murray  found  himself  wondering  why  he 
had  so  studiously  avoided  mentioning  to  the  Glens 
that  he  had  by  chance  encountered  Doctor  Bemish 
that  morning.  He  scarcely  knew  himself,  unless, 
indeed,  it  was  because  this  old  man  was  a  part  of 
the  inscrutable  mystery  that  enveloped  the  woman 
who  had  become  so  strangely  dear  to  him,  and  he 
could  not  bring  himself  to  talk  about  her.  He  was 
about  to  do  a  very  rash  thing  in  order  to  dispel 
that  mystery  if  a  direct  course  could  do  it.  He  was 
going  to  tell  Doctor  Bemish  all  that  he  had  seen  and 
all  that  he  suspected. 

u  By  the  Lord,"  he  said  again,  fiercely,  "  if  she 
cannot,  he  shall  explain  it  to  me,  if  I  have  to  take 
his  life  for  it."  He  plied  his  paddle  with  soft,  swift 
strokes. 

The  blackness  of  the  water  grew  yet  blacker.  He 
was  nearing  the  other  shore.  The  shadows  of  the 
gloomy  trees  that  outlined  the  Bemish  yard  fell 
across  his  way  and  deepened  the  shadows  on  the 
water.  He  dipped  his  one  oar  more  cautiously  and 
slowly  now.  He  had  only  visited  this  spot  twice 


.1  S  TRA  XG  E  PIL  OH IM 'A  GK.  \  Q  * 

before,  and  that  in  broad  daylight.  He  was  quit? 
sure  he  had  touched  the  bank  some  yards  above  the 
proper  landing-point.  Lightly  pushing  the  pirogue 
forward  by  tapping  the  bank  with  the  paddle,  he 
went  on  his  noiseless  way  until  his  ear  caught  the 
sound  of  oars  being  arranged  in  their  locks.  The 
sound  came  from  a  little  cove  a  yard  or  two  bevond 
the  spot  where  the  pirogue  was  gliding  along.  There 
came  a  faint  glow  of  phosphorescent  light.  Some 
one  had  struck  a  match  !  By  its  transient  glimmer 
he  could  see  that  the  man  in  the  boat,  which  was 
drift  in «;  out  of  the  cove,  was  a  white  man.  The 

O 

match  Avent  out,  and  Archie  heard  an  exclamation  of 
impatience.  A  second  match  was  struck — success 
fully,  this  time.  The  man  in  the  skiff  held  it  to  a  cigar 
between  his  lips  quite  long  enough  for  the  man  in 
the  pirogue  to  discover  that  it  was  Doctor  Bemish, 
and  that  he  was  about  starting  off  on  a  nocturnal 
expedition  of  some  sort. 

Archibald's  first  impulse  was  to  hail  him,  and 
bluntly  tell  him  his  errand  then  and  there.  His 
second  was  to  avail  himself  of  the  chance  thus  acci 
dentally  afforded  him  of  solving  the  mystery  him 
self. 

'•  Good  God  !"  was  his  horrified  reflection  ;  "  can 
he  be  devil  enough  to  make  her  rise  from  that  bed 
of  sickness  and  come  to  him  1  Perhaps  I  can  best 
serve  her  by  not  losing  sight  of  him."  lie  held  his 
paddle  poised  ready  for  use.  "  Lead  on,  my  Prince  of 


168  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

Darkness,  and  I  will  follow  in  your  wake.  Something 
must  come  of  this  night's  labor." 

His  cigar  fairly  alight,  the  old  man  in  the  boat 
settled  the  heavy  oars  in  their  muffled  locks  with 
weary  arms.  He  had  not  meant  to  go  back  to  the 
Island  so  soon.  He  had  spent  the  past  night  there 
with  George  because  he  had  wanted  to  report 
progress  with  Theresa ;  but  he  had  found  the  boy  in 
need  of  some  tools  for  a  piece  of  mechanism  he  was 
perfecting  there  in  his  prison-house,  and  he  had 
promised  to  bring  them  to  him.  This  night  lie 
would  be  more  careful  about  the  boat. 

"He  never  would  have  asked  it,"  the  old  man 
sighed  wearily,  "  if  he  had  known  how  nearly  worn- 
out  I  am.  A  few  more  efforts  and  the  truth  will  be 
out,  George  will  be  free,  and  I — no,  nothing  can 
make  me  strong  again.  I  think  the  Lord  is  only 
letting  me  live  until  this  task  is  finished.  Then  I 
shall  depart  in  peace." 

It  was  no  difficult  task  for  the  strong  young  rower, 

CJ     v  O 

following  stealthily  in  his  wake,  to  keep  as  near  to 
the  tired  old  man  as  was  desirable.  The  old  man 
rowed  slowly  and  laboriously.  The  young  one 
paddled  swiftly  and  noiselessly.  The  old  man  led 
unconsciously,  the  young  one  followed  blindly — fol 
lowed  blindly,  until  once  more  the  darker  shadows 
of  earth  and  tree  fell  across  the  smooth  surface  of 
the  water,  and  the  sound  of  the  muffled  oars  he  had 
been  following  suddenly  ceased.  A  soft  whistle 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  \f& 

broke  the  intense  stillness.  Archie  held  his  breath 
in  surprise  and  suspense.  It  was  answered  by  a 
Avhistle  from  the  shore.  He  could  hear  the  old  man 
forcing  his  boat  through  the  bushes.  He  propelled 
the  pirogue  a  step  or  two  nearer.  He  could  hear  a 
voice  from  above  say  : 

"  I  hardly    looked    for    you    back    to-nio-ht.      I 

"  O 

thought  you  were  tired."  The  voice  was  rich  and 
cultured. 

"A  little— only  a  little,"  said  the  old  man  cheer 
fully  ;  "  but  I  thought  you'd  want  the  things  as  quick 
as  you  could  get  them,  and  I've  got  them  all  here 
for  you." 

"  So  I  did  want  them,  but  not  at  your  expense. 
Look  out,  there ;  the  bank's  crumbled  some  to-day. 
Give  me  your  hand." 

"  Xo,  you  take  the  things,  and  I  can  scramble  up. 
Here — got  'em  ?" 

"  Yes,  all  right.     Xow  then,  your  hand." 

He  could  hear  the  two  men  walk  away  together 
after  the  old  man  had  clambered  up  the  bank  with 
the  assistance  of  the  hand  that  had  been  offered  in 
the  darkness. 

Without  stopping  to  inquire  why  he  should  be 
thus  playing  the  spy  in  this  skulking  fashion,  Archi 
bald  Murray  forced  his  pirogue  in  among  the  bushes 
and  lightly  sprang  up  the  vine-tangled  bank.  lie 
found  himself  surrounded  by  an  impenetrable  mass  of 
greenery,  At  least  impenetrable  it  seemed  to  him, 


no  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

standing  there  in  its  midst  for  the  first  time,  with 
the  darkness  of  an  Egyptian  night  surrounding  him. 

He  made  a  blind  step  forward  in  the  direction  the 
voices  seemed  to  lead  him.  The  vines  twined  them 
selves  about  his  feet  and  brought  him  to  his  knees. 
He  stumbled  forward,  pushing  the  briery  branches 
that  environed  him  aside  with  torn  and  reckless 
hands.  If  he  once  lost  that  distant  murmur  of 
voices  his  whole  expedition  would  be  a  failure. 
What  could  he  accomplish  stumbling  along  there  in 
the  darkness  over  unknown  ground  (  His  resolute 
progress  was  rewarded.  lie  found  himself  in  a 
path.  A  narrow  one,  to  be  sure — so  narrow,  that  by 
stretching  out  either  arm  he  could  touch  the  rough 
bark  of  a  tree  or  the  thorny  branches  of  some 
tropical  bush ;  but  the  ground  under  his  feet  had  a 
beaten  feeling.  It  had  beeiMrodden  before— doubt 
less  had  just  been  trodden  by  those  men  whose 
voices  he  was  straining  his  ears  to  catch.  Suddenly  a 
wall  of  impenetrable  foliage  arose  immediately  in 
front  of  him,  blocking  his  further  progress  and  com 
pleting  his  bewilderment. 

Tie  stood  still  to  collect  his  scattered  senses.  What 
had  become  of  the  voices  and  what  had  become  of 
the  path  ?  Just  then,  apparently  directly  from  out 
the  mass  of  foliage  that  blocked  his  progress,  came 
the  words  : 

''  Poor  little  thing !  I  should  hate  to  have  it  tell 
permanently  on  her  health,  llather  than  that,  let 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  171 

things  stand  as  they  are.  Come,  I  was  about  to 
take  a  dip  when  I  heard  you  whistle.  "Will  you 
come  with  me  or  stay  where  you  are  ?  The  water's 
too  cold  yet  awhile  for  you,  I  suppose,  but  it  puts 
new  life  into  me.  I  take  a  plunge  every  night." 

"  I  will  go  with  you.  I  have  not  told  you  yet  that 
Theresa  says  — 

The  mass  of  foliage  moved  and  seemed  to  open 
outward.  Archibald  Murray  had  but  time  to  spring 
backward  before  the  le&fy  covert  swung  back  on 
its  hinges,  letting  a  flood  of  light  pour  out  for  a 
second ;  then  it  was  quickly  shut.  By  that  light  he 
could  see  the  owner  of  the  rich  young  voice  that  had 
just  uttered  words  which  set  his  pulses  to  beating 
tumultuously.  He  had  barely  time  to  note  that  this 
man  was  tall,  young,  and  exceedingly  graceful  m  his 
movements.  The  leafy  screen  swung  back  into  posi 
tion.  The  two  men,  father  and  son,  walked  away 
toward  the  shore.  Archibald  stepped  from  his  place 
of  concealment  and  groped  for  the  latch  to  this 
cunningly-concealed  door.  It  was  not  hard  to  find. 

"  lie  shall  find  me  here  when  he  comes  back  from 
his  dip,  this  luxurious  hermit,  who  speaks  of  that 
poor  girl's  health  as  if  it  were  but  a  matter  of 
secondary  consideration  to  his  own  comfort.  Who 
in  the  foul  fiend's  name  is  he  ?" 

He  was  inside  the  hut  now,  and  gazing  about  him 
amazedly.  The  crimson  portieres  that  hid  the  rude 
walls  were  sprinkled  thickly  over  with  delicate  little 


i?3  A  STKANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

Water-color  sketches,  with  tiny  models  in  bark  of 
all  sorts  of  water-craft,  with  masses  of  dried  plants 
and  autumn  leaves  fantastically  arranged.  Over  the 
brazier  of  charcoal  a  brass  kettle  was  swinging,  the 
water  in  it  bubbling  and  singing  merrily.  On  a  side- 
table  were  the  arrangements  for  the  hermit's  sup 
per.  Books,  flower-jars,  pictures,  easels,  boxing- 
gloves,  chess-men,  all  the  appointments  of  a  luxuri 
ously-inclined  man  of  leisure  filled  the  little  room  to 
its  utmost  capacity.  On  a  writing-table  in  one 
corner  lay  an  open  blank-book,  whose  first  pages 
were  written  over  in  a  close,  fine,  masculine  hand. 
Archibald  Murray  closed  it  roughly.  Perhaps  here 
was  a  clew  to  the  identity  of  this  Sybaritish  recluse. 

"  Private  Diary  of  George  Bemish  "  was  written 
diagonally  across  the  fly-leaf.  He  involuntarily 
turned  the  fly-leaf.  He  had  no  vindication  to  offer 
for  reading  the  words  that  stared  him  in  the  face : 

" '  Before  God  I  am  innocent  of  the  murder  of 
Adrien  Michelet !  There  are  only  three  persons  in 
the  world  who  know  this  as  well  as  I  do.  These 
three  persons  are  my  poor,  heroic,  patient  old  father, 
Theresa  Glen,  and  Hugh  Maury.  But  should  I  die 
on  this  Island,  like  a  badger  in  his  hole,  I  want  all 
the  world  to  know  it.  They  will  believe  me  after 
they  read  this,  which  is  to  be  made  public  at  my 
death.' 

"  I  see  it  all !  I  see  it  all !" 

Archibald   Murray  threw   up   his   hands  with   a 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  173 

groan  of  despair.  "  There  is  no  mystery  for  me  to 
solve — no  insult  for  me  to  avenge.  It  is  the  secret 
of  his  whereabouts  she  is  guarding.  It  is  for  his 
sake  she  braves  the  pestilential  breath  of  night  and 
comes  here  to  bless  him  with  her  sweet  presence. 
It  is  for  their  sakes  the  old  man  turns  ferry-man 
and  conve}Ts  her  to  his  side.  ]S"o  mystery,  no  wrong, 
no  insult.  Only  truth,  and  loving  loyalty,  and  pa 
tient  endurance! 

"  My  love,  my  sweet,  thank  God  I  could  not  believe 
evil  of  you,  as  much  as  appearances  were  against 
you  !  Xot  mine  to  strip  from  them  the  poor  solace 
of  these  stolen  meetings  !" 

He  stole  away  softly  from  the  spot  where  George 
Bemish  was  spending  his  useless  life.  He  closed  the 
leafy  screen  as  carefully  as  if  a  sleeping  child  lay 
among  its  swaying  branches.  Bruised,  breathless, 
sick  at  heart,  he  groped  his  way  back  to  the  pirogue. 

An  hour  later  he  stood  before  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Glen, 
white  and  wearied. 

'•  How  is  she  ?"  were  his  first  words. 

"  She  has  not  moved  since  you  left.  Has  slept 
like  an  angel,"  said  Mrs.  Glen,  fervidly. 

'•Has  slept  like  herself,  then,"  said  Archie,  with 
an  expressibly  pathetic  smile. 

"  But  you  ?"  said  Mrs.  Glen,  anxiously  ;  "  you  look 
so  tired  and  white.  You  have  done  too  much  for  us 
to-day." 

"Nonsense!"    he  said,  with   a  futile  attempt   at 


174  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

cheerfulness.  "  The  water  and  the  night-air  to 
gether  have  made  me  look  a  trifle  ghastly,  no  doubt ; 
they  always  do." 

"  How  about  Bemish  ?"  Mr.  Glen  asked. 

':  Could  not  find  him,"  said  Archibald,  without 
flinching.  "  But  if  Miss  Glen  is  still  sleeping,  per 
haps  she  may  not  need  him,  after  all." 

"  Will  you  see  her  before  going  to  bed  ?" 

"  No.     She  does  not  need  me,  either." 

He  said  it  with  such  a  strange  gruffness  in  his 
voice,  with  such  a  hopeless  look  in  his  eyes,  that 
when  he  turned  immediately  on  his  heel  and  left 
them  Mrs.  Glen  looked  at  her  husband  and  said, 
wonder ingly  : 

"  Did  you  ever  ?" 

"  Frequently,"  said  Mr.  Glen,  with  a  troubled  smile, 
"  where  Thersie  is  concerned." 

"  Leonard,"  said  Mrs.  Glen,  solemnly,  "  for  a 
really  good  woman,  I  think  your  sister  Theresa  has 
inflicted  an  awful  amount  of  suffering." 

'•  I  think  so,  too.  But  what  are  we  going  to  do 
about  it  *" 

"  Nothing,"  his  wife  answered,  unsatisfactorily. 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE 


CHATER  XIV. 

MAD    PARMEL1E    AT    HOME. 

THE  SNOW  mantles  that  had  kept  the  flower- 
germs  warm  all  winter  had  melted  at  the  first 
breath  of  spring.  The  crocuses  were  lifting  their 
yellow  heads  above  the  brown  earth-crust,  and  the 
snow-drops  were  hanging  their  pure,  white  bells  on 
their  fragile  stems  before  Hetty's  mother  and 
Hetty's  doctor  relaxed  their  stern  vigilance  and 
gave  her  the  blessed  freedom  of  action  she  pined  for 
so  restlessly. 

The  winter  had  been  one  of  horror  to  her.  She 
had  only  been  permitted  glimpses  of  the  outside 
world  through  closed  sashes  and  stuffy  woolen  cur 
tains.  She  was  thin  and  pale,  and  the  thinner  and 
paler  she  got  the  more  they  enveloped  her  in  wool 
ens,  and  the  more  closely  they  confined  her  to  the 
house,  which  to  her  excited  imagination  was  but  a 
repository  of  dead  men's  secrets  and  the  haunt  of 
ghostly  visitants. 

The  sighs  and  restless  movements  of  some  unquiet 
spirit  disturbed  her  days  and  nights.  If  those  un 
explained  sounds  had  caused  her  simply  vulgar  ter 
ror,  she  would  long  since  have  fled  from  the  little 
room  where  alone  they  were  ever  heard.  She  had 
gone  to  every  room  in  the  house  when  no  one  was 


176  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

in  them  ;  had  sat  in  them  with  folded  hands  and 
strained  ears,  listening,  longing,  hoping  she  might 
hear  those  same  despairing  sighs  and  weary  foot 
steps  that  came  to  her  alone  in  her  own  room. 

u  It  is  because  this  was  my  cousin's  room,''  the 
girl  had  decided  for  herself,  looking  lovingly  up  into 
the  bright-faced  portrait  that  hung  over  her  mantel 
piece,  "  that  my  Uncle  Richard's  spirit  comes  back 
here.  If  only  he  would  think  me  good  enough  to 
be  his  messenger  to  the  boy  he  loved  so  well!" 

More  than  once  she  had  stretched  out  her  little, 
thin  hands  toward  those  ghostly  sounds,  pleading 
audibly  that  she  might  be  found  worthy  to  do  the 
bidding  of  her  ghostly  visitant. 

"  What  would  you  have  him  know,  my  uncle  ? 
Can  you  not  tell  me  ?  He  has  forgotten  me — has 
gone  where  I  could  not  even  persecute  him  with  a 
letter ;  but  he  would  welcome  me  if  I  came  with  a 
greeting  from  you,  oh,  my  uncle!  and  I  would 
search  the  wide  world  over  to  bear  it  to  him ;  for — 
oh,  the  spirits  know  it — I  love  him  !  I  love  him  !" 

These  frenzied  moments  of  exaltation  would  leave 
her  unnerved  and  exhausted,  and  then  Mrs.  Ogden. 
in  a  fright,  would  send  for  Doctor  Vernon ;  and 
Doctor  Vernon,  acting  according  to  his  lights,  would 
mix  a  fresh  lot  of  pills  and  leave  a  new  sort  of  mixt 
ure,  perhaps  a  trifle  nastier  than  the  last,  and 
would  prescribe  oatmeal  for  her  breakfast,  and  con 
fidently  promise  Mrs.  Ogden  that  if  all  his  directions 
were  followed,  Hetty  would  soon  be  quite  herself 
again. 

Apart   from   a   mild   sort   of  anxiety  concerning 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  177 

Hetty,  Mrs.  Ogden  was  in  an  unusually  placid  frame 
of  mind  that  first  winter  of  her  return  to  the  home 
of  her  childhood.  Things  were  moving  much  more 
smoothly  than  she  had  anticipated. 

The  neighbors  having  attended  her  big  dinner  out 
of  curiosity  and  interest  in  her  handsome  and 
heroic  tutor,  came  again  to  inquire  after  Miss 
Ogden,  whose  prolonged  illness  touched  the  quick 
sympathies  of  their  warm  Virginia  hearts,  until 
social  recognition  had  been  accorded  the  returned 
native  almost  unconsciously. 

Then  the  tutor  had  really  turned  out  to  be  a 
treasure.  JSTo  one  had  ever  obtained  such  mastery 
of  the  Ogden  boys.  She  would  gladly  have  taken 
a  long  lease  of  him,  but  he  refused  to  engage  for 
more  than  one  month  at  a  time. 

"  Xo,"  he  would  say,  firmly  ;  u  I  am  only  resting 
and  accumulating  strength  for  my  pilgrimage.  I 
have  laid  my  snares  in  many  places ;  somewhere, 
sometime,  I  will  find  my  friend  and  carry  him  home 
in  triumph." 

Again,  she  had  gotten  rid  of  Archibald  Murray 
much  more  easily  than  she  dared  hope  for.  He  had 
never  been  heard  from  since  writing  back  for  his 
books.  He  had  not,  even  then,  vouchsafed  her  any 
information  concerning  himself. 

"  I  suppose  he  is  not  starving,"  she  said  to  herself, 
comfortably,  "  or  I  should  have  heard  from  him 
quick  enough." 

Yes,  things  were  going  quite  to  suit  Mrs.  Ogden ; 
and  now  that  the  crocuses  were  out  and  the  hyacinth- 
buds  swelling,  she  might  open  Hetty's  prison-bars. 


1 78  A  STRANGE  PIL  GRIM  A  GE. 

She  was  glad  to  see  that  in  the  limited  intercourse 
circumstances  had  permitted  between  Hetty  and  the 
boys'  tutor  there  had  been  none  of  that  shyness, 
none  of  that  pretty  maneuvering  for  proximity, 
none  of  those  furtive  proceedings  which  bespeak  the 
incipient  love-affair. 

Hetty  and  Hugh  Maury  met  three  times  a  day  at 
the  table,  and  in  the  parlor  of  evenings,  when  she 
would  be  at  the  piano,  or  in  the  chapel,  when  he 
would  be  at  the  organ.  Each  seemed  to  enjoy  the 
harmony  evoked  by  the  other  in  a  purely  imper 
sonal  manner. 

"  Everything  is  just  as  it  should  be,"  Mrs.  Ogden 
said,  placidly,  turning  from  the  window,  where  she 
had  just  caught  a  glimpse  of  Hugh  Maury  stalking 
across  the  fields  in  the  direction  of  Doctor  Yernon's 
house,  to  go  and  let  Hetty  out  for  a  ramble  on  her 
own  responsibility. 

"The  morning  is  just  delicious,"  she  said,  tying  a 
blue  silk  handkerchief  about  Hetty's  neck  with  ma 
ternal  solicitude ;  "  and  just  so  you  don't  linger  in 
shady,  damp  spots,  you  are  at  liberty  to  spend  the 
whole  morning  out  under  this  glorious  spring  sun 
shine." 

"  Glorious,  indeed !"  said  Hetty,  her  eyes  dancing 
as  she  walked  tentatively  from  one  end  of  the  long 
gallery  to  the  other,  undecided  in  which  direction 
she  should  take  her  flight. 

"  Where  are  the  boys,  mother  ?  I  shouldn't  mind 
taking  one  of  them  with  me." 

"It's  Saturday,  and  there's  a  circus  in  town,  so 
there's  no  use  asking  me  where  the  bovs  are.  Mr. 

w  v 


A  STRANGE  PIL  GRIM  A  G  E.  ]  79 

Maury  has  gone  over  to  take  his  Saturday  dinner 
with  the  Vernons,  as  usual." 

"  I  shouldn't  want  him  if  he  hadn't,"  said  Hetty, 
bounding  down  the  steps  with  a  light-hearted  laugh. 
"  It's  done  me  good  already,  mother — this  sweet, 
sweet  air.  Don't  be  troubled  if  you  don't  see  me 
before  sunset.  I  promise  not  to  get  drowned 
again." 

Mrs.  Ogden  turned  toward  the  house  as  Hetty, 
like  a  bird  set  free,  ran  across  the  lawn,  declaring 
she  hadn't  yet  made  up  her  mind  which  way  to  go. 

If  this  last  surviving  member  of  the  Dabney 
family  could  be  said  to  have  a  ruling  passion,  it  was 
for  novel-reading  —  novel-reading  of  that  fervid, 
absorbed  description  which  tinged  her  fancies  in 
early  girlhood,  guided  or  misguided  her  conduct  in 
maturer  years,  and  finally  became  a  sedative  and  a 
solace. 

She  was  in  a  specially  complacent  mood  this 
morning.  She  had  made  all  of  her  children  happy, 
and  now  she  would  enjoy  the  rest  of  the  day  in  her 
own  fashion. 

Hetty  was  taking  her  enjoyment  in  another 
fashion.  In  the  aimless  manner  of  a  butterfly  she 
flitted  across  the  fields  where  the  hands  were  turn 
ing  up  the  sweet-smelling  earth  with  keen,  sharp 
plow-blades — now  stooping  to  fill  her  hands  with 
the  red  clover-blossoms,  now  tiptoeing  to  reach  a 
spray  of  plum-blossoms  for  the  adorning  of  her 
hat-band. 

An  hour  of  this  unusual  exercise  found  her  tired 
beyond  her  expectations.  "  Uncle  Richard's  bench," 


180  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

on  the  promontory,  was  the  only  dry  resting-place 
that  suggested  itself.  By  a  circuitous  route  through 
the  fields  she  reached  it,  and  threw  herself  upon  it 
in  a  condition  of  fatigue  that  quite  irritated  her. 

"  I  am  of  no  account !"  she  said  aloud.  u  Just  liter 
ally  of  no  account !" 

This  was  the  first  time  she  had  been  on  the  prom 
ontory  since  she  had  made  that  daring  expedition 
across  the  river  on  skates.  The  river  lay  spread  out 
before  her  now,  running  swiftly  and  merrily  be 
tween  its  green  banks.  Released  from  its  icy  fet 
ters,  it  was  a  charming  object  in  the  landscape. 
The  land  on  the  opposite  side  lay  much  lower  than 
on  the  Dabney  side.  She  could  sit  there  on  her 
sunny  bench,  with  her  feet  prudenth7"  poised  on  the 
roots  of  the  oak,  and  take  in  a  wide  panoramic 
view  of  homely  industry  on  the  other  side. 

There  was  the  old  ferry-man,  mending  a  very 
dirty  dip-net,  in  preparation  for  the  coming  of  the 
fishing  season  ;  there  was  his  wife,  planting  her  early 
potatoes  in  the  truck-patch ;  beyond  were  the  broad 
fields  that  belonged  to  mad  Parmelie  Rose,  where* 
the  plows  were  running  and  the  plowmen  whistling 
as  merrily  as  if  there  were  no  iron  bars  to  the 
windows  of  one  of  the  rooms  in  the  big,  gray  house 
which  Hetty  could  just  see  now,  veiled  by  the  pale- 
green  of  the  early  foliage  on  the  trees  that  stood 
all  around  it. 

The  sun  Avaxed  hotter.  She  meant  to  be  very 
prudent,  this  time — just  to  sit  still  and  enjoy  the 
sunshine  until  she  was  quite  rested,  and  then  go  back 
to  the  house  in.  a  leisurely  way.  But  certainly  that 


.1  STRAtfQE  PTLG&IMAGE.  181 

blue  silk  handkerchief  coiled  about  her  neck  was 
just  a  trifle  too  much.  She  unwound  it  and  gave  it 
a  little  shake  to  free  it  of  wrinkles. 

When  she  had  folded  it  and  put  it  in  her  jacket- 
pocket,  and  turned  her  eyes  once  more  on  the  placid 
scene  before  her,  old  Ishain,  the  ferry-man,  was  just 
pushing  his  boat  out  into  the  stream.  She  watched 
him  as  he  propelled  it  across  the  stream  with  quick, 
long  strokes  ;  but  it  was  only  when  he  stood  up  in  the 
boat,  with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  and  sent  his  voice  up 
to  the  promontory,  that  she  felt  responsible  for  his 
movements. 

"  Here's  me,  Missy  !'' 

"  Mercy !"  Hetty  sprang1  violently  to  her  feet. 
UI  had  entirely  forgotten  I  told  him  that  w lien  he 
saw  a  blue  silk  handkerchief  waving  he  must  come 
in  a  hurry.  I  must  pay  him  for  his  trouble." 

She  went  down  the  steep  path  with  unselfish  con 
sideration  only  in  her  heart.  k>  I  can  go  down  better 
than  he  can  climb  up,''  she  said  to  herself. 

The  boat  was  clean  and  trim.  The  old  man 
greeted  her  cordially.  She  wished  she  might  take  a 
little  row.  But  she  had  promised  to  be  very 
prudent. 

"  It  was  a  mistake  this  time,  uncle.  I  didn't  mean 
to  wave  for  you.  I  was  just  taking  my  handker 
chief  from  my  neck.  But  I  am  going  to  pay  you,  ail 
the  same,''  she  said,  feeling  for  her  purse. 

A  disappointed  look  came  over  the  old  man's  face. 
"Xever  ruin'  'bout  the  money,  Missy.  I  thought 
maybe  you  was  goin'  to  see  po'  Miss  Hose.  She  ben 
bcffffin'"  so  hard  to  see  *o'  ma.  Yo'  ma,  when  sho 


"CO 


182  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

was  Miss  Aggie  Dabney,  and  our  Miss  Rose  were 
mighty  thick,  honey." 

"  And  she  wants  to  see  mother  now  !  "Why  did 
not  somebody  let  her  know  V 

"  She  do  know,  Missy ;  I  went  up  to  the  big  house 
and  tol'  Miss  Aggie  myself." 

"  Told  her  what  P 

"  Tol'  her  that  Mars'  John  say  Miss  Kose  could. i' 
poss'ble  hoi'  out  much  longer,  an'  how  it  would  be  a 
ac'  of  mercy  to  come  and  see  her." 

"  And  what  word  did  my  mother  send  back  ?" 

"  She  say  you  was  too  ill  for  her  t'  lef  yo'  side  day 
nu'  night." 

"  That  was  true,"  said  Hetty,  only  too  glad  to 
shield  her  mother  from  the  suspicion  of  heartless- 
ness.  "  I  have  been  very  sick  for  a  long  time.  Who 
is  Mr.  John  ?" 

"He's  Miss  Rose's  brother  which  I  tol'  you  'bout 
las'  time,  Missy.  He's  jis'  naterally  wearin'  himself 
out  tryin'  to  tek  keer  uv  Miss  Rose.  He  say  she 
shan't  go  to  no  'sylum  while  lies  head's  hot." 

"  He  must  be  a  good  man." 

"  God  never  made  no  better.  But  Miss  Rose 
wants  to  see  women-folks  sometimes,  an'  they's  all 
'fraid  uv  her  now." 

"I'm  not  afraid  of  her,"  said  Hetty,  stepping 
daringly  into  the  boat  and  seating  herself,  "  and  I  am 
going  to  see  her  if  you  think  I  can  walk  that  far. 
I've  been  sick  ever  since  I  fell  into  the  river  that 
day,  and  I'm  ridiculously  weak." 

u  Tain't  no  furder  then  from  you'  bench  up  to  yo' 
big  house,  Missy ;  an'  fore  de  lawd  you  do  look  so 


A  STRA2TGE  PILGRIMAGE.  1S3 

much  lak  Miss  Aggy  uscn  to  look  when  her  and  our 
Miss  Rose  was  so  thick  that  mebbeyou  kin  fool  her 
into  thinkin'  YOU  is  Miss  Affg-v.  De  recordin'  aivil 

»  OO«.  f3 

wouldn't  sot  down  that  sort  cr  lie  ag'in  folks — would 
he.  Missy  C 

'•  AVe  will  risk  it,  anyhow,"  said  Hettv,  smilino- 

«•  t,     7 

reassurance  into  the  perplexed  face  of  the  honest 
old  man.  whose  faithful  soul  longed  to  carry  some 
comfort  to  his  desolate  "  w'ite  folks/' 

"  You  shill  ride  the  ol'  mar'  up  to  the  house. 
Missy.  She's  jis'  as  gentle  as  a  sick  kitten.'' 

"  And  about  as  slow,''  said  Hettv.  with  a  lauirli. 

«•    '  O 

u  Fo'  legs  is  better  than  two.'' 

"  And  it  will  be  the  quickest  way.  I  must  not 
get  back  to  the  house  too  tired,  you  know,  or  mamma 
won't  let  me  out  soon  again.'' 

Islmni  fulfilled  his  promise  of  having  her  in  the 
saddle  "  in  a  jiffy/' 

She  would  have  scorned  to  take  that  short  ride  if 
she  had  been  in  her  normal  condition.  So  short  was 
it  that  she  seemed  scarcely  to  have  lost  sight  of  the 
big  potato  the  ferry-man's  wife  was  cutting  the 
''eyes  "out  of  before  she,  perched  on  the  back  of 
the  old  mare,  was  pleading  for  help  to  open  the  gate 
that  led  into  the  front  yard  of  Parmelie  Rose's 
house. 

She  directed  this  call  for  help  to  a  man  whom  she 
saw  stooping  over  a  flower-bed  immediately  in  front 
of  the  house.  He  was  the  only  person  in  sight. 

lie  straightened  his  back  at  the  sound  of  her 
girlish  voice,  shoved  his  hat  from  off  his  brows,  and 
looked  at  her  in  undisguised  amazement. 


1  g4  A  STEA  XG  E  PILGRIM  A  Gfi. 

"  Oh !"  said  Hetty,  under  her  breath,  "  that  must 
be  Mr.  John." 

Throwing  the  bridle  over  the  gate-post,  she  slipped 
from  the  saddle  and  walked  quickly  toward  .him, 
leaving  her  beast  on  the  outside. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,-'  she  said,  with  a  bright 
smile,  before  he  had  at  all  recovered  from  his  sur 
prise.  "  I  thought  I  was  ordering  some  uncle  or 
other  to  open  the  gate  for  me.  I  suppose  this  is 
Mr.  Rose." 

"  That  is  my  name.     And  yours,  my  child  ?" 

"  Is  Hetty  Ogden." 

A  dark  shadow  flitted  across  the  worn  face  of  the 
man,  who  had  evidently  been  gardening  before  her 
invasion.  He  glanced  restlessly  toward  the  windows 
of  the  house  before  which  they  were  standing. 
Hetty's  glance  followed  his.  She  shuddered.  There 
were  iron  bars  to  all  the  windows  of  the  room  that 
locked  out  upon  the  flower-beds. 

"  She  is  there  ?" 

"  Yes,  she  is  there.  She  is  asleep  now,  but  she 
has  had  an  unusually  trying  day,  poor  child." 

He  passed  his  hand  wearily  over  his  forehead  and 
pushed  back  the  long  white  locks  that  were  falling 
over  it ;  his  face,  lighted  by  a  pair  of  gentle  brown 
eyes,  was  so  full  of  suffering  that  Hetty  said,  in 
voluntarily  : 

"  And  so  have  you !" 

"That  goes  for  nothing.  The  one  involves  the 
other." 

"  She  wanted  to  see  my  mother  c" 

"  Yes.     She  fancies  that  she  has  something  on  her 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  \§$ 

mind  that  must  be  told  to  Mrs.  Ogden  alone.  You 
know  the  mentally  diseased  are  very  fanciful.  I 
think  it  would  have  done  her  good  if  Mrs.  Ogden 
could  have  come  to  her.  But  I  do  not  blame  her— 
not  at  all,  not  at  all.  There  are  some  things  no  one 
can  help  us  to  bear.  This  is  one  of  them.  It  was 
selfish  of  me  to  even  ask  it." 

It  was  a  noble  face  into  which  she  was  looking! 
A  face  full  of  the  sweetness,  and  the  light,  and  the 
strength  of  a  soul  that  had  been  tried  in  the  furnace 
of  affliction  and  come  out  of  it  pure  silver. 

"  I  am  going  to  make  her  think  her  old  friend  has 
come  to  her,"  said  Hetty.  '*  They  say  I  look  as  my 
mother  used  to  at  my  age." 

"  You  do — and  you  don't !"'  said  John  Rose, 
scanning  the  pure  young  face  before  him  with  seri 
ous  eyes.  "  There  is  something  more  in  your  face 
than  there  was  in  Agnes' !" 

"  Then  you,  too,  knew  my  mamma  ?" 

"Knew  her?  Yes.  Why,  I  thought  mothers 
were  fond  of  telling  daughters  about  their  con 
quests!  But  Parmelie  —  you  say  you  would  not 
be  afraid  to  go  in  to  her  V 

u  Xo — not  one  particle." 

"  You  are  very  young,  my  child,  to  come  in  con 
tact  with  such  a  wreck.  My  poor  Parmelie;  she 
was  as  fair  and  as  light-hearted  as  you  are,  once." 

A  shrill  scream  from  the  windows  behind  them 
made  Hetty  start  violently.  She  turned  her  fright 
ened  eyes  toward  the  barred  windows.  Two  long, 
thin  arms  were  stretched  out  toward  her  through 
the  cold  iron  bars,  and  a  shrill  voice  cried : 


186  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

"  Agnes  !  Agnes !  I  thought  she  would  come ! 
Quick — come  quick !  I've  got  so  much  to  tell  you  !" 

Hetty  trembled  violently.  Her  cheeks  blanched, 
and  she  stood  irresolute  until  John  Eose  broke  the 
spell. 

"It  is  too  much  for  you,  poor  child.  You  shall 
not  go.  I  am  sorry  she  has  seen  you,  but  I  can 
quiet  her  by  telling  her — 

"  You  shall  quiet  her  by  telling  her  nothing.  I 
am  going  to  her.  Only  " — she  made  a  step  forward, 
then  turned  her  lovely  eyes  pleadingly  on  him— 
"  you  will  come  with  me  f 

"I  will  go  with  you,  and  see  that  no  physical 
harm  can  possibly  befall  you,"  he  said,  drawing  her 
hand  within  his  arm. 

"  Then  I  shall  not  be  afraid  at  all,"  she  said,  "  but 
will  be  glad  if  my  coming  can  comfort  her  in  any 
way." 

The  next  moment  she  was  alone  in  the  iron-barred 
room  that  mad  Parmelie  Rose  called  home. 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

HETTY    SHARES    PARMELIE    ROSE's    SECRET. 

I  AM  AFRAID  it  has  been  too  much  for  you,  my 
poor  child,"  said  John  Rose,  half  an  hour  later, 
as  he  lifted  Hetty  into  the  saddle  and  felt  her  trem 
bling  in  every  limb  ;  '•  but  I  believe  you  have  done 
her  good." 

"  She  has  done  me  good,"  said  Hetty,  trying  to 
smile  away  the  concern  in  the  gentle,  patient  face  of 
the  prematurely  old  man  before  her. 

"  Done  you  good  ?" 

"  Yes.  She  hae  taught  me  how  to  be  faithful  and 
true  even  though  the  very  light  of  reason  be  ex 
tinguished  ;  and  memory,  one  would  think,  would 
cease  to  remind  one  of  promises  and  vows  made  long 
ago." 

"Remember,"  said  John  Rose,  gravely,  '-you 
have  been  listening  to  the  ravings  of  a  poor  creature 
whose  word  all  the  Avorld  sets  at  naught." 

"  Xot  all  the  world.     1  do  not  set  it  at  naught." 

"  Perhaps  it  was  selfish  of  me  to  let  you  go  in  to 
her.  But  her  sands  of  life  are  almost  run,  and  I  be 
lieve,  if  she  could  unburden  herself  of  her  fancied 
obligations,  her  latter  days  would  be  more  peaceful," 
he  said  in  apologetic  tones. 

"Mr.  Rose,"  said  Hetty,  impulsively,  " of  course 


188  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

you  know  what  her  fancied  obligations,  as  you  call 
them,  are  ?" 

"Of  course." 

"  And  you  believe  that  there  is  no  foundation  for 
them  in-  facts — in  the  facts  of  her  past  life,  L 
mean  ?" 

"  None  whatever.  Had  I,  I  never  would  have 
permitted  you  to  listen  to  her  ravings." 

"  I  am  glad  I  went  to  her — glad  I  have  heard 
what  she  had  to  say.  I  am  glad  that  to  the  very 
last  she  believed  she  was  talking  to  my  mother. 
She  called  me  '  Agnes '  all  the  time." 

"  Poor,  poor  Parmelie  !  You  would  scarcely  be 
lieve,  to  see  her  now,  that  at  one  time  she  was  the 
brightest,  merriest,  prettiest  girl  in  all  this  part  of 
Virginia." 

Hetty  leaned  toward  him  from  the  saddle  and  put 
her  hand  into  his  as  she  said,  with  a  world  of  pity 
in  her  fresh,  young  voice  : 

"  Mr.  Rose,  from  all  that  I  can  learn,  the  Dabney 
family  have  been  the  bane  of  the  Rose  family. 
Don't  you  hate  the  very  name  of  Dabney  ?" 

"  Hate  it  ?  Dear  child,  up  to  the  hour  of  his  death 
Dick  Dabney  was  one  of  my  very  best  friends ! 
And  as  for  Agnes — well,  small  blame  to  her  that  she 
preferred  dashing  Dan  Ogden  to  me.  I've  always 
been  a  slow-coach,  you  know.  Dan  was  worth 
twenty  of  me.  I  see!  I  sec!  You've  been  taking 
what  Parmelie  has  said  too  seriously — yes,  too  seri 
ously,  by  far." 

"  How  could  I  take  it  too  seriously  ?  Oh,  how 
could  I ?" 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  180 

A  patient  sigh  was  his  only  answer. 

She  settled  her  tiny  foot  in  the  stirrup  and  broke 
a  switch  from  the  branches  of  the  willow  under 
which  she  had  tethered  the  old  mare.  She  was 
waxing  nervous.  He  removed  his  hand  from  the 
bridle  and  stepped  back. 

UI  am  coming  again,"  she  said,  touching  the 
mare's  bony  flanks  briskly  with  the  willow  switch. 
She  looked  back  after  she  had  gone  a  few  rods.  lie 
was  standing  there  abstractedly,  with  his  hat  in  his 
hand.  The  wind  caught  his  long,  Avhite  hair  and 
toyed  with  it.  It  was  in  sharp  contrast  with  his 
dark  eyes  and  erect  form.  She  waved  him  another 
farewell  with  her  hand.  He  returned  it  with  his 
broad  palmetto  hat.  Then,  as  the  leisurely  old 
mare  bore  her  deliberately  from  his  sight,  he  turned 
back  to  his  gardening  with  a  sigh.  It  was  not  a 
very  laborious  sort  of  gardening  he  was  engaged  in. 
He  always  kept  two  or  three  beds  of  bright  annuals 
in  bloom,  when  possible,  for  Parmelie's  benefit.  She 
used  to  love  flowers  so  dearly ;  and  even  now,  the 
bright  blaze  of  a  bed  of  zinnias,  or  gladioli,  or 
dahlias,  would  extract  exclamations  of  childish  de 
light  from  her.  There  was  so  little  left  that  gave 
her  happiness!  Tie  believed  he  understood  the, 
source  of  that  delight  better  this  brilliant  spring 
morning  than  ever  before.  Hetty  had  come  to  him 
as  the  zinnias  and  the  dahlias  came  to  Parnielie— 
bringing  with  her  a  sense  of  refreshment  and 
relief. 

"  Poor  child,  poor  child,  if  only  it  does  her  no 
harm,"  he  said,  bending  to  crumble  the  rich  brown 


190  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

mold  between  his  hands  before  dropping  into  it 
the  seed  that  he  meant  to  sow. 

Parmelie,  tc  j,  had  sown  seed  that  day ! 

"An'  you  won'  stop  and  take  a  bite  er  lunch, 
Missy,  befo'  crossin'  over  ag'in  ?"  Isham  asked, 
preparing  to  lead  the  mare  back  to  the  feed-trough 
that  was  nailed  against  a  tree  behind  his  little 
cabin. 

"  No,  I'm  in  an  awful  hurry.  I'll  go  down  to  the 
boat  and  wait  there  for  you,"  Hetty  said,  restlessly 
moving  toward  the  bank. 

Isham  looked  at  her  persuasively,  as  he  said, 
with  hospitable  persistence  :  "  Wen  I  toF  the  ol' 
wroman,  Missy,  that  you  was  gone  up  to  the 
big  house  to  see  our  poo'  Miss  Rose,  she  was  that 
proud  that  she  put  the  bigges'  sweet  'tater  she  could 
find  in  the  pump  smack  in  de  ashes  to  ros'  fur  you, 
an'  she  skim  de  cream  off' n  a  whol'  pan  o'  milk  fo' 
you,  an'  she  say :  '  AVhen  Missy  come  back  I  lay 
she'll  think  this  a  first-class  lunch.'  An'  it  were, 
too.  Many's  the  lunch  Miss  Parm'ly  an'  Miss 
Aggie  is  et  in  that  same  cabin,  w'en  they  cross  over 
to  see  each  other.  An'  she  'low,  my  ol'  woman, 
you  would  tell  us  what  you  think  of  Miss  Parm'ly's 
chances." 

u  I  am  not  a  doctor,  you  know,  so  I  have  not  any 
right  to  say  ;  but  I  am  afraid  she  is  very  weak.  I 
can't  stop  for  lunch  to-day,  because  mamma  will 
scold.  This  is  the  first  time  they've  let  me  out; 
but  I  am  coming  again — coming  soon,  too." 

"  That's  good  news.  It  don'  seem  right  to  me  an' 
the  ol'  woman,  you  know,  that  our  Miss  Parm'ly 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  191 

should  be  forsook  of  the  quality.  You  see,  she 
were  always  one  of  'em." 

But  Hetty's  impatience  to  be  put  across  the  nar 
row  river  was  too  apparent  not  to  impress  itself 
upon  him. 

He  gave  over  persuasion,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
had  her  safely  at  the  base  of  -the  narrow  foot-path, 
which  looked  tiresomely  steep  to  her  in  her  weakened 
condition.  She  would  take  a  short  cut  home,  not  by 
way  of  the  bench.  She  hoped  somebody  might 
have  called  in  her  absence.  Company  always  left 
her  mother  in  an  indulgent  mood. 

"  There !"  She  was  on  top  of  the  bank,  and  had 
just  recalled  the  fact  that  when  sitting  on  the  bench 
she  had  slipped  her  feet  from  out  her  rubbers. 

"  It  will  never  do  to  go  home  without  them,"  she 
heard  some  one  say,  and  glancing  toward  the  bench 
she  saw  her  rubbers  held  aloft  by  Hugh  Maury. 

She  laughed,  and  walking  quickly  toward  him  re 
lieved  him  of  the  overshoes. 

"  You  certainly  do  seem  destined  to  keep  me 
straight  at  this  end  of  the  line.  Did  mother  send 
you  to  see  if  I  had  been  drowned  again  2" 

"•  lS"o.  I  have  not  been  at  the  house  since  early 
morning." 

u  And  it  is  now " 

"  After  two." 

"  Mercy !" 

"  You  are  expecting  a  scolding  ?  Perhaps  you  de 
serve  one  ;  but  to  my  way  of  thinking,  unless  you 
happen  to  feel  hungry,  the  longer  you  stay  out  in 
this  delicious  sunshine  the  better." 


192  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

"  That's  my  way  of  thinking,  too,"  said  Hetty, 
settling-  herself  comfortably  on  the  hard,  wooden 
bench,  "and  I  don't  happen  to  be  at  all  hungry. 
Have  just  refused  a  sumptuous  offer  of  roast  sweet 
potato  and  cream,  over  yonder." 

She  pointed  to  the  ferry-man's  cabin. 

"  You  have  a  partiality  for  that  side  of  the  river," 
the  tutor  said,  looking  down  upon  the  scene  of  her 
rescue.  "  I  am  glad  you  made  the  voyage  safely 
this  time." 

"  A  most  unselfish  congratulation,  all  things  con 
sidered,"  she  said,  looking  at  him  brightly.  There 
was  something  in  his  face  that  put  to  flight  all 
desire  to  jest. 

"I  am  afraid  you  are  very  tired,"  she  said.  "I 
know  how  tiresome  our  boys  can  be.  I  thought  you 
always  spent  this  day  with  dear  old  Doctor  Vernon." 

"As  a  general  thing,  I  do.  In  fact,  I  left  the 
house  for  that  purpose  this  morning.  But  my 
morning's  mail  did  not  tend  to  raise  my  spirits,  and 
I  thought  I  would  only  be  an  infliction  on  my  good 
friend." 

"  Everybody  in  this  world  is  in  trouble,  I  do  be 
lieve,"  said  Hetty,  puckering  her  brows  quaintly. 
"  It's  awful — just  perfectly  awful.  I  hope  your 
trouble  is  not  of  a  very  bad  sort." 

She  looked  so  sweet  and  sympathetic,  but,  withal, 
so  pale  and  fragile,  that  the  tutor's  conscience  smote 
him  for  even  vaguely  hinting  at  his  o\vn  sources  of 
gloom  in  her  presence. 

"IVot  very  bad,"  he  said,  with  assumed  cheerful 
ness,  "I  have  one  friend  in  my  old  home  who 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  193 

writes  me  very  fully  occasionally,  and  this  time  he 
mentions  the  illness  of  a  very  dear  friend,  who  is 
being  attended  Iry  a  new  doctor — and  a  young  one. 
I  took  it  upon  me  to  get  irritated  at  the  chances  of 
so  precious  a  life  being  left  at  the  mercy  of  an  bo::- 
perienced  physician — that  is  all.  You  see,  my  trc^  ^'o 
was  manufactured." 

"A  new  doctor— and  a  young  one!"  Hetty  :xi;d 
softly,  to  herself ;  then,  by  a  sudden  impulse,  to  h;::i : 

"  What  is  the  name  of  this  new  doctor  you  doii't 
approve  of?" 

u  I  really  could  not  say,  without  referring  to  the 
letter." 

"  Then  refer  to  it." 

Her  tones  were  so  sharp,  and  her  manner  so  im 
perative,  that  he  looked  at  her  in  resentful  astonish 
ment. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  How  rude  I  did  sound. 
But  I  want  very  much  to  know  if  the  name  is  Mur 
ray — Archibald  Murray  ?" 

He  had  the  letter  open  in  his  hand  by  this  time. 

"  Yes — Archibald  Murray.     Do  you  know  him  ?" 

"  Know  him  ?  Why,  have  you  never  heard  that 
this  place  belonged  to  my  Cousin  Archibald  Murray 
before  we  came  here  I  Have  neither  mother  nor 
the  boys  ever  spoken  about  him  to  you  ?  Is  he  so 
completely  forgotten  ?" 

"  It  would  seem  that  he  is  not  forgotten  at  all," 
said  Hugh  Maury,  smiling  into  her  flushed  face. 

"  Xot  by  me.  Oh,  no !  I  can  never  forget  my 
Cousin  Archibald !  But  he  never  writes  to  us.  lie 
thinks  we  wronged  him,  and — I  am  afraid  we  did." 


104  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

"  Had  we  not  better  put  the  rubbers  on  now  and 
go  back  to  the  house  f '  Hugh  asked,  abruptly.  "  I 
think  I  should  receive  some  compensation  for  mak 
ing  such  a  suggestion,  for  I  am  sure  it  would  be 
much  pleasanter  to  sit  here  in  the  sunshine  and  talk ; 
but  I  doirt  imagine  either  one  of  us  will  receive 
commendation.' ' 

"  You  arc  reproving  me  for  talking  about  family 
affairs.  You*  don't  think  it  nice  of  me." 

';  I  am  only  the  tutor,  Miss  Ogden,  and  only  the 
tutor  for  a  short  while.  Presently  I  shall  be  a  pil 
grim  again.  Perhaps  you  would  be  sorry,  then,  to 
think  I  held  any  knowledge  of  your  family  affairs. 
It  might  make  you  uncomfortable.  That  is  what  I 
wish  to  prevent." 

He  had  bent  upon  one  knee  to  put  on  her  over 
shoes,  and  was  looking  up  into  her  face  with  those 
great  dark  eyes  of  his,  which  never  lost  their  cast 
of  solemn  gloom.  It  was  as  if  he  were  doomed  to 
dwell  forever  in  the  shadow  of  his  own  past. 

"  No,"  she  said,  looking  back  at  him  fearlessly. 
"  I  should  not  feel  uncomfortable  ;  for  wherever 
you  went — completely  out  of  my  life,  it  might 
be — I  would  not  be  afraid.  I  would  know  you  in 
capable  of  taking  advantage  of  a  girl's  indiscreet 
chatter.  I  am  afraid  I  am  indiscreet,  but  I  could 
not  be  afraid  to  trust  you." 

She  was  in  nowise  prepared  for  the  extraordinary 
reception  her  mild  commendation  met  with. 

Hugh  Maury,  the  grave,  taciturn  tutor,  of  whom 
she  stood  rather  in  awe  than  otherwise,  there  on  his 
knee  before  her,  seized  both  her  hands  and  raised 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  195 

them  reverently  to  his  lips.  When  he  dropped 
them  again  there  was  a  tear  resting  upon  her  soft 
white  hand. 

It  was  the  first  time  in  this  bitter  exile  from  home 
and  friends  that  a  woman's  voice  had  spoken  words 
of  confidence  to  him — the  first  time  that  accents 
of  womanly  sympathy  and  pity  had  fallen  upon  his 
parched  soul !  He  had  not  known,  himself,  until 
that  second,  how  he  longed  again  to  be  one  of  the 
great  human  family  wherein  heart  speaks  to  heart 
and  soul  responds  to  soul ! 

This  he  could  never  be.  In  one  hot,  rash  moment . 
he  had  thrown  away  forever  his  birthright  of  love 
and  tenderness.  Theresa  Glen  could  never  be  any 
thing  but  a  beloved  memory  to  him.  There  was 
but  one  act  that  could  even  alleviate  the  load  of  re 
morse  and  anguish  that  had  driven  him  into  exile, 
and  made  him  feel  like  a  thief  whenever  he  won  a 
smile  of  kindness  or  a  friendly  word  from  sweet, 
pure  woman. 

He  would  find  George  Beinish,  take  him  home  in 
triumph  to  that  tried  and  patient  old  man,  and 
then — well,  he  never  went  beyond  the  moment  when 
his  strange  pilgrimage  should  culminate  in  finding 
the  man  who  was  all  this  time  suffering  for  his— 
Hugh  Maury's— crime.  He  had  last  heard  of  him 
in  Canada.  He  had  not  cared  to  frustrate  his  own 
plan  of  expiation  by  braving  that  bleak  climate  in 
his  enfeebled  condition. 

He  had  tarried  among  warmer  surroundings  for 
the  winter,  husbanding  his  strength  and  his  re 
sources,  until  the  spring  should  be  fairly  opened. 


196  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

Mrs.  Ogden  knew  that  May  would  find  her  without 
the  invaluable  services  of  her  tutor. 

Hetty  brushed  the  tear  from  her  hand  furtively. 

"  He  is  half  French,"  she  said  to  herself,  in  extenu 
ation  of  his  fervor,  "  and  doesn't  know  he  is  making 
himself  absurd." 

She  was  on  her  feet  now,  prepared  to  return  to  the 
house.  Her  gentle  spirit  would  not  let  her  leave 
him  under  the  impression  that  she  overrated  that 
foolish  outburst  of  his.  He,  too,  had  risen  and 
walked  away  a  few  steps. 

"  I  should  like  to  ask  you,"  she  said,  timidly,  "  the 
name  of  the  post-office  from  which  your  friend 
wrote.  Would  it  be  my  cousin's  post-office,  do  you 
suppose  ?" 

He  turned  a  relieved  face  toward  her.  How 
sweet,  and  sensible,  and  comforting  she  was  at  all 
times. 

" "Without  doubt,"  he  said.  "You  are  quite  wel 
come  to  the  letter.  There  is  nothing  in  it  of  a  pri 
vate  nature,  and  you  may  be  able  to  glean  some 
news  of  your  cousin  in  its  pages  which  I  have 
failed  to  give  you." 

He  extended  it  to  her.  She  grasped  it  eagerly, 
and  with  a  hurried,  blushing  u  Thank  you,"  almost 
ran  away  from  him.  toward  the  house. 

"  I  have  blundered,"  said  Hugh  Maury,  looking 
after  her,  uneasily.  "  She  is  in  love  with  that  man, 
and  if  she  knows  how  to  read  between  the  lines  she 
will  discover  that  he  is  in  love  with  Theresa." 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  197 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

HETTY    LOCATES    TIIK    GHOST. 

TTETTY  was  glad  Mrs.  Telfair  St.  Leger  had 
1  1  called  on  her  mother  that  morning  during 
her  own  absence.  The  St.  Legers  were  the  "  wry 
first,"  and  now  that  Mrs.  St.  Leger  had  called  and 
invited  Mrs.  Ogden  to  dinner  there  was  nothing 
left  for  Mrs.  Ogden  to  complain  of,  as  far  as  the  old 
neighbors  were  concerned.  She  was  glad,  too,  that 
the  boys  had  been  to  the  circus.  They  were  so  brim 
ful  of  its  marvels  that  nothing  was  simpler  than  for 
her  to  sit  silent  throughout  the  entire  evening  unob 
served  m  the  parlor,  with  her  crochet-work  in  her 
hand,  while  she  allowed  her  thoughts  to  wander  at 
will.  She  was  glad,  too,  that  Hugh  Maury  had 
what  Hob  called  -one  of  his  musical  fits  on  him,'' 
and  saw  fit  to  spend  his  evening  in  the  chapel,  where 
the  organ  stood.  He  had  closed  the  doors  between 
him  and  the  rest  of  the  household,  and  only  the 
most  distant  mutterings  of  the  music  could  be  heard 
above  the  nearer  clatter  which  entered  her  ears  in 
such  confused  snatches. 

She  had  had  so  much  new  material  given  her  for 
thought  that  day.  Parmelie  Rose  had  made  her 
understand  why  that  key  must  be  given  to  Mr.  Dab- 
ney.  (Poor  Parmelie  !  the  intermediate  facts  of  his 
death  and  burial  had  not  been  grasped  by  her.) 


198  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

"What  the  book  which  old  Lucy  had  intrusted  to 
her  had  to  do  with  it  all  she  was  still  ignorant  of. 
If  she  could  only  find  old  Lucy  — 

"  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  her,  Hetty,"  she 
heard  her  mother's  voice,  just  then,  above  the  inward 
tumult.  "  She  is  a  woman  whom  any  young  girl 
might  take  for  a  model.  She  walks  and  carries  her 
self  like  a  queen.  She  spent  all  of  last  winter  in 
Paris ;  and  such  a  bonnet  as  she  did  have  on  — 

"  I  could  do  it,"  said  Lem,  with  a  swagger,  in  his 
shrill  young  voice.  "  You  jus'  iix  up  a  trapeze  in 
the  garret  an'  lemme  have  a  week's  practice  — 

"  I  say,  mother !  Het !  Lis'n.  Lem's  goin'  to  turn 
circus-rider  — 

"  And  Eob's  been  practising  for  my  clown.  He's 
tryin'  to  say  funny  things  no\v,  only  he  don't  know 
ho\v  bad  he's  missed  it  — 

"  And  her  gloves  !  Well,  they  fit  like  the  skin  on 
her  hands.  She's  a  magnificent  woman." 

"  When  are  you  going  to  dine  there,  mother  F 

"Next  Thursday.  But  I'm  going  to  see  Miss 
Spinnaker  early  Monday  morning,  to  have  her  re- 
drape  my  old  maroon  satin.  It's  time  I  was  having 
something  decent  made,  now  that  people  are  be 
ginning  to  find  out  I  am  here  to  stay." 

"  Mother,  do  you  know  where  my  Cousin  Archi 
bald  is  ?"  Hetty  asked  suddenly,  at  this  most  in 
opportune  moment. 

Mrs.  Ogden  frowned  slightly. 

"What  possessed  the  girl  to  ask  that  question 
just  when  she  was  feeling  her  serenest  ?"  she  won- 
d  ered. 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  igy 

"  Not  positively,"  she  said,  shortly. 

"Have  the  books  he  asked  for  ever  been  sent 
him?" 

"  No,"  still  more  shortly.  "  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I 
lost  his  letter  with  his  address  in  it.  If  he  had 
wanted  them  very  badly,  I  suppose  he  would  have 
written  again.  Doubtless  he  has  forgotten  all  about 
them,  and  us  too,  by  this  time." 

The  girl  dropped  her  head  listlessly  and  busied 
herself  once  more  with  her  crochet-needles.  Xo 
doubt  her  mother  was  right.  Some  lines  in  the 
letter  Hugh  Maury  had  given  her  to  read  came  back 
to  her  over  and  over  again  : 

"Miss  Glen  is  said  to  be  in  delicate  health,  but 
doubtless  she  will  pull  through  under  the  devoted 
ministrations  of  her  young  and  handsome  doctor, 
Murray,  who  has  taken  everything  out  of  old 
Bemish's  hands.  If  possible,  she  grows  more  beauti 
ful  as  time  goes  on." 

Her  cousin,  then,  was  doing  well  in  a  business 
way !  And — he  was  the  devoted  attendant  of  a 
beautiful  woman !  Food  enough,  this,  for  poor  little 
Hetty's  fervid  fancy. 

"  iSTo  wonder,"  she  said,  passionately,  as  she  read 
that  fateful  letter  over  in  her  own  room  that  night 
for  the  third  time,  "  he  does  not  care  for  a  few  musty 
old  books,  nor  for  his  old  home,  nor  for — for — any 
one  of  us." 

There  were  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  there  was  a 
sharp  p:iin  in  her  heart,  as  she  stood  with  clasped 
hands  before  the  bright-faced  portrait  over  her 
mantel-shelf.  Truth  to  tell,  that  was  the  Archibald 


200  -A-  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

Murray  she  was  in  love  with — that,  and  the  faithful 
memory  of  a  first  kiss  ! 

"If  Archibald  Murray  himself,  grown  graver, 
more  serious,  less  sunny-faced,  by  far,  than  that 
youthful  portrait  of  himself,  could  have  suddenly 
placed  himself  in  that  richly-gilded  frame,  her  sensa- 
tiQii  would  have  been  one  of  disappointment,  per 
haps  ;  after  which,  healthy  and  inevitable  disillusion 
ment  ! 

As  it  was,  the  portrait  smiled  down  heartlessly  on 
her  tear- wet  face  as  she  stood  there  in  that  worship 
ful  attitude,  with  her  great,  earnest  eyes  fixed  upon 
it. 

"  But  that  makes  no  difference,"  she  said  aloud, 
more  calmly,  turning  from  the  portrait  toward  her 
dressing-table. 

"  No  difference  in  what  Parmelie  Rose  has  told 
me.  I  must  make  sure  of  that,  and  then  —  How 
strange  that  on  the  very  day  poor  Parmelie  gave  me 
her  directions,  I  should  get  his  address  !  God  must 
have  ordered  it  just  so." 

A  sigh — a  heavy,  weary  sigh  !  Then  the  restless, 
slow  shuffling  of  uncertain  footsteps— just  over 
her  bureau  one  moment,  the  next  above  the  tall 
tester  of  the  bed.  It  did  not  even  startle  her  now. 
She  had  grown  to  look  for  it,  almost. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  softly,  addressing  herself  to  the 
fancied  spirit  of  her  Uncle  Richard.  "  He  shall 
know  it,  my  uncle,  he  shall  know  it  all,  if  I  have  to 
take  the  box  to  him  with  these  hands  of  mine.  I 
will  trust  it  to  no  hands  but  mine. 

"  I  want  to  see  him ;  I  want  to  see  her.     Oh,  I 


A  STRANGE  PlLaniMAQE.  ->oi 

want  to  look  at  the  woman  who  has  made  him  for 
get  his  home  so  soon  !" 

Poor  little  Hetty.  She  had  a  shrine  in  this  dingy 
little  room,  before  which  she  knelt  every  nio-ht. 

*j  o 

Only  an  old  school-desk — an  old,  battered,  paintless 
desk.  But  in  it  she  kept  her  Bible,  and  with  her 
head  resting  on  it  she  poured  out  her  nightly  prayer. 
Such  pure  supplications,  from  a  pure  young  heart,  as 
were  these  prayers  that  floated  heavenward  from 
the  region  of  Archibald  Murray's  old  school-desk ! 

To-night  she  lifted  its  lid  and  took  from  it  the 
black  book  old  Lucy  had  given  into  her  keep 
ing  Avith  so  much  mystery  and  importance.  How 
many  times,  during  her  dreamy  confinement  to  the 
house,  had  she  sat  and  idly  turned  its  pages  over 
and  over.  It  was  an  old  Latin  grammar,  absolutely 
meaningless  to  her.  The  Dabneys  were  great  peo 
ple  for  heir-looms.  She  had  often  smiled  at  the  stress 
her  mother  would  lay  on  an  old  bit  of  lace,  or  a  bat 
tered  silver  cup,  because  it  had  been  in  the  family  so 
long.  Doubtless  this  old  grammar  was  a  Dabney  heir 
loom.  But  to-night  the  old  grammar  yielded  up  its 
secret  in  the  most  startlingly  unexpected  manner.  It 
had  been  thriftily  covered  by  some  thrifty  member  of 
the  family  in  a  by-gone  day  with  black  glazed- 
muslin.  This  muslin  cover  was  an  offense  to  Hetty, 
who  was  fastidiously  neat  in  all  things. 

"  Xow  that  I  know  where  ho  is,''  she  said,  snip 
ping  with  her  pocket-knife  the  threads  that  sewed 
the  cover,  "  I  will  mail  it  to  him,  but  not  in  this 
soiled  condition." 

She  lifted  the  freed  book  from  its  dusty  covering. 


202  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE!. 

It  looked  respectably  clean  and  modern  after  slough 
ing  the  black  shell,  which  she  flung  carelessly  aside. 
A  small  sheet  of  paper,  which  from  long  pressure 
had  grown  adhesive,  fell  from  between  the  black 
muslin  cover  and  the  calf -skin  of  the  binding  proper. 
It  was  folded  once,  for  convenience  of  shape.  She 
unfolded  it  wonderingly,  and  spread  open  on  the 
desk  before  her  a  half-sheet  of  note-paper  closely 
written  over  in  a  delicate,  feminine  hand.  At  the 
bottom  of  the  sheet  was  the  name  Lavinia  Mur 
ray,  and  the  note  was  addressed  to  her  dear  son,  Ar 
chibald  Murray.  On  the  back  of  it  was  this  in 
dorsement  : 

In  case  this  should  fall  into  the  hands  of  any  one 
but  Archibald  Murray,  I  must  trust  to  their  honor 
and  humanity  to  see  that  the  leather  wallet  full  of 
letters,  which  will  be  found  in  a  drawer  in  the 
annoire  of  my  brother's  attic,  be  put  into  his  hands, 
if  possible ;  if  not  possible,  let  them  be  destroyed 
unopened.  I  feel  convicted  of  cowardice  in  the 
manner  of  this  proceeding ;  but  I  dare  not  disturb 
the  present  peaceful  and  loving  condition  of  affairs 
under  this  roof.  I  am  afraid  of  llichard's  re 
proaches. 

I  know  I  cannot  live  very  much  longer — perhaps 
only  a  few  months.  He  loves  the  boy,  and  when  I 
a ui  gone  they  will  be  all  in  all  to  each  other.  I 
have  already  told  him  that  the  book,  which  he  does 
not  know  is  to  contain  this,  is  to  be  given  to  my  son 
\vhen  he  returns  from  college,  not  before,  with  in 
structions  to  examine  it  thoroughly  from  cover  to 
cover. 

If  the  letters,  which  Archibald  Murray  will  find  in 
the  leather  wallet  upstairs,  are  to  make  any  great 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  ou;j 

change  in  his  life,  I  want  it  to  come  after  he  has 
been  fitted  by  a  college  education  to  make  his  own 
way  in  life. 

I  hope  my  dear  brother  Richard,  and  the  boy  for 
whose  sake  I  have  consented  to  act  deceitfully  and 
cunningly,  when  I  loathe  deceit  and  cunning,  may 
find  it  easy  to  forgive  a  dead  woman. 

Hetty  sat  with  this  strange  document  before  her 
quite  a  while.  Why  should  this  dead  woman  have 
trusted  so  much  to  chance  \  Then,  in  quick  vindica 
tion,  she  ran  over  the  possible  circumstances :  "  Her 
brother  she  evidently  stood  in  awe  of.  Her  sister — 
my  mother  " — Hetty  almost  sobbed  the  words  out— 
"  no  one  seems  ever  to  have  turned  to  her  for  help.'' 
Then,  more  comfortably :  "  She  had  married  and 
gone  away  to  live  before  my  cousin  and  his  mother 
came  here.  But  why  should  Archibald,  to  whom 
this  hidden  message  had  been  so  carefully  transmit- 

o  *> 

ted  from  his  uncle  to  old  Lucy,  from  Lucy  to  his 
own  hands,  have  been  so  careless  of  it  i"  Then  she 
recalled  how  her  mother  heaped  her  swift,  harsh  in 
sults  upon  him,  driving  him  from  his  home.  What 
more  natural  than  that  he  should  forget  this  pool1, 
little,  shabby  book  ? 

"  That  was  why,"  she  said,  suddenly,  "  he  wrote 
back  for  books  only.  Doubtless  he  expected  this  one 
to  come  to  him,  but  would  not  draw  attention  to  it 
by  specifying  it. 

k'Oh,  my  mother!  to  think  that  these  two  men— 
your  brother  and  your  nephew — should  find  their 
worst  enemy  in  you,  the  only  woman  of  their  line!" 

She  fell   asleep  that  night  sobbing  bitterly.     If 


204  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

only  she  could  annihilate  the  long,  dreary  Sunday 
that  must  intervene  between  that  exciting  day  and 
the  Monday  which  should  see  her  mother  depart  for 
Miss  Spinnaker's  and  herself  left  free  to  explore 
that  receptacle  of  mysteries — the  armoire  in  the 
attic ! 

The  last  thing  her  consciousness  took  in  that  night 
was  the  sound  of  those  weary  sighs  and  shuffling- 
feet  that  had  haunted  her  through  all  those  dreary 
winter  months. 

But  the  Sunday  did  wear  away,  and  the  Monday 
burst  upon  the  world  in  a  flood  of  glorious  spring- 
sunshine. 

Mrs.  Ogden  leaned  out  of  the  carriage-window  to 
give  Hetty  some  final  directions  : 

"  See  to  it  that  Mr.  Maury  and  the  boys  have 
their  dinner  promptly  at  two,  Hetty  ;  and  stay  out 
in  the  sunshine  as  much  as  you  want  to  yourself.  I 
may  not  get  back  before  dark ;  the  roads  are  as 
heavy  as  in  midwinter." 

She  was  gone.  Hetty  breathed  .freely.  Before 
the  carriage  had  rolled  into  the  public  road  from  the 
Dabney  grounds,  she  was  fitting  the  key  into  the 
lock  of  the  armoire  upstairs  in  the  attic  with  a 
trembling  hand. 

There  were  two  prizes  behind  that  door  that  she 
must  secure  this  day — the  tin  box  Parmelie  Rose 
had  said  she  must  examine,  and  that  package  in 
the  wallet.  Both  of  them  belonged  to  her  Cousin 
Archibald. 

There  was  no  difficulty  in  finding  the  leathern 
wallet.  She  dropped  it  into  the  pocket  of  her  dress 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  205 

hastily,  then  with  both  hands  she  clasped  the  tin  box, 
and  was  about  to  close  the  ar moire  door  when  she 
heard  that  stifled  sigh  once  more  coming  from  the 
near  depths  of  the  armoire  as  it  had  done  that  first 
time  of  her  stolen  visit.  She  shrieked  out,  in  ter 
rified  protest : 

"  You  told  me  to  do  it !  Am  I  not  doing  your 
bidding,  Uncle  Richard  ?" 

"  Miss  Aggie !  My  sweet,  sweet  mistress  !"  came 
back  to  her  in  stealthy,  imploring  tones. 

Hetty  held  her  breath  and  leaned  forward  with 
startled  eyes  and  ears  attent. 

"  Let  me  go  down  the  river,  my  sweet  chile.  'Fore 
de  lawd,  Lucy  won'  never  open  her  lips  ag'in  - 

With  frantic  haste  Hetty  tore  down  the  dresses 
and  cloaks  that  hung  in  a  silken,  velvety  mass  on  the 
hooks  of  the  old  wardrobe.  A  loose  panel  in  the 
back  of  the  armoire  yielded  readily  to  her  pressure. 
She  peered  into  a  dark  cuddy  beyond,  lighted  only 
by  the  rays  of  sunshine  that  penetrated  the  shrunken 
shingle-roof. 

"  Who  is  there  ?"  she  asked,  imperatively. 

At  the  aperture,  with  her  withered  hands  clasped 
imploringly,  and  her  aged  features  twitching  with 
nervous  excitement,  old  Lucy  appeared. 

The  young  girl  stretched  out  her  soft,  white 
nands,  and  laying  hold  upon  the  tottering  form, 
drew  the  old  woman  out  into  the  warm,  sunny  attic. 


206  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

A    DAY    OF    FATE. 

WHAT  ARE  you  doing  here?'5  Hetty  asked, 
as  soon  as  she  could  recover  her  breath  for 
amazement.  She  had  seated  the  old  woman  in  an 
arm-chair  which  had  been  relegated  to  the  attic 
when  Airs.  Ogden  had  refurnished  the  grand  draw 
ing-room  down-stairs.  Lucy  sat  on  the  edge  of  it 
trembling  from  fright,  and  blinking  her  dazzled  eyes 
in  the  full  blaze  of  sunlight.  She  looked  timidly 
back  toward  the  dark  aperture  from  which  Hetty 
had  drawn  her,  almost  without  any  will  of  her  own, 
and  rubbed  her  withered  hands  together  nervously. 

"  I  ain'  doin'  nothin',  honey,"  she  said,  apologetic- 
ally. 

"  I  wastis  a  heap  uv  good  time  in  thar,  but  I 
made  sho'  yur  was  Miss  Aggie.  I  didri'  know  Miss 
Aggie  'lowed  anybody  but  herseff  to  come  up  yhere. 
I  wouldn'  a-spoke  ef  I'd  knowed  it  were  you." 

"  She  has  not  allowed  me  this  time.  I  came  with 
out  her  knowing  it." 

Old  Lucy  made  a  restless  movement. 

"Mebbe  I  better  be  goin'  back  now,  honey." 

"  Going  back  where  ?" 

"In  the  cubby.  Miss  Aggie  mout  scold  you, 
honey." 

"  You  are  not  going  back  in  that  hole  any  more." 


A  STRANGE  P1L  GUI  MA  GE.  o  Q  7 

The  old  woman  looked  at  her  eagerly,. 

u  Did  Miss  Aggie  say  dat  word  2" 

"  Mother  does  not  know  anything  about  my  being 
up  here,  I  told  you.  She  has  gone  out  to  see  Miss 
Spinnaker,  and  will  be  gone  all  day.  When  did  you 
get  back?" 

"  Back  from  whar.  honey  ?" 

"  Back  from  the  Creek  Place." 

"  I  ain't  never  ben  at  no  Crick  Place  yit,  honey." 

"Haven't  you  been  with  your  children  this 
winter  ?" 

"  Xo,  honey.  I  ben  pesterin'  Miss  Aggie  to  lemme 
go,  but  she  say  I  ain'  never  learn  how  t'  hoi'  my 
tongue  yit." 

"How  long  have  you  been  in  there?"  Hetty 
asked,  pointing  to  the  small  room  under  the  roof, 
the  door  to  which  had  been  cunningly  concealed  by 
the  big  armoire. 

"  Ever  sence  that  night  I  gin  you  the  book  for 
Mars'  Archie.  Mars'  Dick  made  a  special  p'int  of 
yo'  cousin  gittin'  that  book,  'cause  it  was  all  hes  ma 
lef  him." 

Hetty  had  turned  very  pale  while  the  old  woman 
was  talking,  and  now  dropped  heavily  on  a  roll  of 
carpeting  by  the  arm-chair  she  was  sitting  in. 

"  You  ain't  los'  that  book,  honey  ?"  Lucy  clasped 
her  withered  hands  in  agitation. 

"  ]S"o,  no,  no ;  the  book  is  all  right.  I  was  think 
ing  of  you.  I  was  thinking  of  the  sighs  and  the 
restless  footsteps  that  I  thought  belonged  to  the 
other  world.  Oh  !  if  I'd  only  had  more  sense !" 

"Did   I   pester  you   much,  honey?     I   forgetted 


208  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

that  yo'  room  was  'neath  the  cubby,  an1  I  was  mouty 
res'less  at  times." 

"  Pester  me !  I  was  not  thinking  of  myself.  I 
was  thinking  of  you.  I  might  have  let  you  out 
before." 

"  I'se  ben  doin'  ve'y  well,  honey ;  dat  is  to  say, 
tolluble  well.  Miss  Aggie,  she  come  ev'y  night  arter 
you  all  gone  to  bed,  and  fetch  me  mo'  vittles  than  I 
kin  possibly  'your.  An'  she  jus'  pile  blankets  and 
comfortables  in  thar  for  me  t'  sleep  under,  w'en  it 
wuz  col' ;  but  somehow  I  miss  de  sunshine  moutily, 
an"  I  miss  my  pipe  mighty  bad,  honey,  an'  then  I 
ben  wastin'  so  much  good  time.  Lucy  never  were  a 
lazy  nigger." 

"  "Why  did  my  mother  want  to  keep  you  there, 
Aunt  Lucy  ?" 

The  old  woman  glanced  furtively  toward  the  door 
of  the  attic. 

"  You  need  not  be  afraid.  The  door  is  locked  on 
the  inside." 

"But  Miss  Aggie  says  my  mout'  too  big.  She 
done  punish  me  'nough  'bout  talkin'." 

"  Well,  then,  you  need  not  say  another  word. 
You  shan't  get  into  any  more  trouble  through  me. 
I  am  going  to  tell  you  something.  When  I  tell  you 
the  truth,  shake  your  head  this  way."  Hetty  gave 
a  quick,  affirmative  nod.  "When  I  am  stating  an 
untruth,  this  way."  She  shook  her  head  solemnly 
in  negation. 

"  You  is  a  sharp  chil',  an'  no  mistake,"  said  old 
Lucy,  admiringly.  "  Go  on,  honey." 

"  To  begin  with,"  said  Hetty,  "  I  have  been  to  see 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  2QQ 

Miss  Parmelie  Eose  !  I  spent  an  hour  with  her  on 
Saturday." 

"  De  lawd  !     Do  Miss  Aggie  know  dat  ?" 

"You  are  not  to  speak,"  said  Hetty,  impera 
tively. 

"  I  am  going  to  tell  you  what  she  told  me.  Her 
brother,  Mr.  John,  stood  behind  a  closet-door, 
where  I  could  see  him  all  the  time.  She  thought  I 
was  mother,  and  talked  to  me  about  something  she 
and  my  mother  did  when  they  were  two  wild  school 
girls.  I  hope  I  will  find  out  that  her  crazy  words 
meant  less  than  I  believe  they  did." 

Lucy  shook  her  head  mournfully. 

"  She  told  me  that  before  my  Grandmother  Dab- 
ney  died,  my  Uncle  Richard  fell  in  love  with  a  sew 
ing-girl  who  used  to  come  here  by  the  week  to  sew 
for  my  grandma.  Was  that  true  ?" 

Old  Lucy  shook  her  head  affirmatively,  then  burst 
out  explosively  : 

"  But  she  war'n  no  common  sempstriss,  honey. 
Her  pa  was  a  officer  in  the  army,  and  when  he  die 
he  lef  her  an'  her  ma  that  bad  off  that  she  had  to 
turn  in  and  help  some,  and  ol'  Miss  giv'  her  some 
work  to  do.  She  was  a  beauty,  too,  Miss  Bella 
were." 

"  Miss  Rose  did  not  tell  me  so,  but  I  think  she 
was  in  love  with  my  Uncle  Richard  herself." 

Lucy  gave  an  affirmative  nod. 

"Miss  Rose  was  rich,  and  iny  grandmother  and 
mother  wanted  Uncle  Dick  to  marry  her." 

"  You's  right,  honey  ;  but  go  on.  I  am  gwine  tell 
you  nothin'.  You's  teilin'  me  de  truth,  though." 


210  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

"  "When  my  grandmother  found  out  what  was  go 
ing  on  she  turned  the  pretty  sewing-girl  off,  and  my 
Uncle  Richard  went  into  to\vn  where  she  lived  with 
her  mother  and  married  her  there,  but  did  not  dare 
bring  here.  Grandmother  died  soon  after  this,  and 
then  my  Uncle  Dick  began  to  fix  up  to  bring  his 
bride  home.  He  did  not  like  to  do  it  too  soon  after 
grandma's  death,  but  every  day  he  would  bring 
home  something  pretty  and  put  it  in  the  room  that 
was  going  to  be  hers. 

"  My  mother  and  Miss  Rose  were  determined  to 
break  off  what  they  thought  was  only  a  foolish 
love  affair.  They  did  not  know  he  was  really  mar 
ried  to  the  pretty  sewing-girl.  The  first  time 
he  went  to  see  her  after  my  grandmother's  funeral 
he  saw  a  strange  young  man  jumping  off  her  back 
gallery  and  getting  into  the  street  by  a  lane.  He 
asked  her  who  it  was,  and  she  said  no  one  but  her 
self  had  been  inside  her  yard  for  a  week. 

"  She  looked  red,  and  confused,  and  miserable,  for 
my  mother  had  just  been  there  saying  cruel  and  in- 
s  :lting  things  to  her,  but  had  left  when  she  saw  my 
u  :cle  coming  in  at  the  gate.  She  would  not  tell 
hi '.11  his  sister  had  been  there,  saying  those  awful 
tl.in^s  to  her,  and  she  could  not  tell  him  that  the 
strange  young  man  was  Miss  Parmelie  Rose  herself, 
\vho  had  managed  that  he  should  only  see  her  riding- 
coat  and  high  hat  as  he  opened  the  front  gate,  for  she 
did  not  know  it.  That  was  the  plan  my  mother 
and  her  friend  had  concocted  between  them  to  make 
my  uncle  give  up  his  poor  sweetheart. 

';  It  was  a  wicked  and  successful  plan ;  but,  thank 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  211 

God,  my  mother  did  not  know  how  wicked  at  that 
time. 

"  They  had  an  awful  quarrel — my  uncle  and  his 
wife.  She  denied  over  and  over  again  that  he  had 
seen  anyone  going  out  of  her  house  by  a  side-way, 
lie  believed  she  was  telling  him  a  falsehood.  When 
he  started  to  leave  her  she  just  put  a  box  in  his 
hands  and  told  him  it  held  everything  of  value  he 
had  ever  given  her.  She  had  never  dared  wear  his 
jewels  openly,  and  she  would  not  be  supported  by  him 
until  he  acknowledged  her  before  the  world  as 
his  wife.  All  his  money  and  jewels  were  in  that  box. 

"  He  told  her  that  the  box  should  never  be  unlocked 
until  she  came  to  him  with  proofs  of  her  innocence, 
and  then  she  should  take  her  place  before  all  the 
world  as  his  wife.  He  told  her  to  send  him  the  key 
when  she  was  ready  with  the  proof." 

"  It  ain't  right,  honey !  it  ain't  right !"  said  old 
Lucy,  once  more  breaking  her  pact  of  silence,  "  to 
pour  such  tales  into  a  child's  ears.  Miss  Rose  ought 
to  be  'shamed  of  herself." 

"  Child  >"  said  Hetty,  bitterly.  "  I  feel  as  if  I 
were  a  thousand  years  old.  But  don't  interrupt ;  I 
want  to  tell  you  all  that  I  learned  from  mad  Par- 
melie  Hose  last,  Saturday  before  I  leave  you." 

'"  Leave  me,  honey  ?" 

'"  Yes.  I  am  going  to  leave  you  only  until  it  is 
dark — I  am  going  to  put  you  back  into  your  prison- 
house  until  it  grows  dark  ;  then  1  am  going  to  set 
you  on  the  road  with  some  money  in  your  purse. 
But  don't  interrupt  again — I  want  you  to  see  if  I've 
got  it  all  right,  for  after  you  are  gone  I  am  going  to 


212  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

tell  my  mother  about  Parmelie  and  about  my  letting 
you  out." 

"  Go  on,  hone}',  go  on  !  It  do  look  as  if  do  Lord 
was  straightenin'  things  out !" 

"My  Uncle  Dick  was  hot-tempered  and  proud. 
His  wife  was  proud  and  insulted.  Neither  would 
give  way.  He  locked  up  the  house  and  went  to 
Europe  for  a  year.  When  he  came  back,  the  sewing 
girl  and  her  mother  had  moved  out  of  the  neigh 
borhood." 

"  And  that's  the  Lord's  truth,"  said  Lucy,  swaying 
to  and  fro  in  her  chair.  "  Blessed  be  the  Lord,  that 
maketh  the  light  to  shine  in  the  dark  places." 

"When  my  uncle  came  back  my  mother  tried 
harder  and  harder  to  make  him  marry  Miss  Parme 
lie  Eose,  but  he  would  not  have  anything  to  do  with 
her  ;  and  then,  after  a  little,  people  began  to  say  Miss 
Rose  was  queer ;  and  she  got  queerer  and  queerer, 
until  her  good,  patient  brother  had  to  lock  her  up." 

"  Did  Miss  Rose  tell  3Tou  all  that  herseff,  honey  ?" 
said  Lucy,  with  a  perplexed  look  on  her  withered 
face. 

"No.  I  am  making  up  the  story  out  of  the 
snatchy  way  she  told  mother  (you  know  she  thought 
I  was  mother)  about  what  came  after.  She  accused 
mother  of  having  gotten  her  into  trouble  and  then 
deserting  her.  She  says  she  came  to  mother  while 
Uncle  Dick  was  in  Europe  and  told  her  how  that 
poor  young  woman  had  sent  for  her,  just  before  he 
went  away,  and  gave  her  the  key  to  the  box  and 
asked  her  to  take  it  to  Uncle  Richard  with  her  own 
hands,  and  tell  him  that  there  must  be  some  awful 


A  STRANGE;  PILGRIM  A  GE.  o  1 * 

mistake,  for  she  had  been  a  true,  loving  wife  to  him, 
and  only  wanted  to  be  forgiven  for  the  angry  words 
she  had  spoken  that  day. 

"But  mother  vowed  that  that  woman  should 
never  be  at  the  head  of  this  house,  and  she  had  al 
ways  managed  Miss  Rose,  so  she  continued  to  man 
age  her ;  and  then  when  Uncle  Dick's  wife,  suppos 
ing  that  he  had  got  the  key  but  refused  to  be  recon 
ciled,  went  away  before  he  came  back,  there  was  no 
reason  to  give  him  the  key  and  the  message.  Ko 
one  knew  where  the  sewing-girl  had  gone  to. 

"So  then  mother  married  and  went  away,  and 
poor,  mad  Parmelie  was  locked  up,  and  my  Uncle 
Eichard  never  knew  that  his  wife  had  sent  him  that 
loving  message  and  the  key  by  her  hand." 

"You's  tol'  me  more  than  I  knowed  myself, 
honey — heaps  more  !" 

"  And  then,"  said  Hetty,  thoughtfully,  "  poor  Miss 
Eose  herself  seemed  to  get  confused  and  wild,  and 
insisted  upon  it  that  I  (thinking,  you  know,  all  the 
while  that  I  was  mother)  ought  to  examine  the  box. 
She  thinks  that  perhaps  there  may  be  something 
in  there  to  prove  that  the  woman  who  gave  her 
that  key  and  begged  her  to  give  it  to  my  Uncle 
Dick  was  not  really  his  wife." 

"  She  cyan't  prove  that,  honey — no  ma'am.  They 
was  wedded  man  and  wife,  and  folks  hadn't  ought  to 
put  them  'sunder." 

"  But  the  strangest  part  of  it  all  is,  that  poor  Miss 
Eose  says  she  got  a  letter  two  or  three  years  after 
that,  telling  her  that  my  Uncle  Dick"s  wife  had  a 
little  son  two  years  old,  and  that  she  was  going  to 


214  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

send  him  to  a  half-sister  of  my  uncle's,  who  lived  in 
Vermont,  and  that  she  wanted  to  know,  for  her 
son's  sake,  if  my  Uncle  Dick  still  believed  that 
falsehood  of  her. 

"  You  see,  all  this  time  my  uncle's  wife  thought 
Miss  Rose  was  her  true  friend ;  and  she  gave  me  that 
letter  on  Saturday,  Aunt  Lucy.  My  Uncle  Dick's 
wife  wrote  it  about  her  little  boy." 

"What  became  of  him,  honey?  For  wherever 
he  may  be,  that  boy  is  Mars'  Dick  Dabney's  own 
son  and  heir.  Miss  Arkabella  Murray  \varn'  capa 
ble — no,  honey,  she  warn'  capable — of  tellin'  no  lie 
'bout  such  a  solemn  matter.  Miss  Bella  was  true  grit, 
I  tell  you." 

"  Miss  Arkabella  Marray  ?" 

"That  was  the  maiden  name  o*  Mars'  Dick's 
wife,  honey." 

Hetty  repeated  the  name  over  softly  to  herself. 
The  coincidence  of  its  similarity  to  her  cousin's 
name  seemed  neve"r  to  have  struck  old  Lucy. 

"What  became  of  him,  honey *"  she  asked 
again. 

"  That  I  cannot  tell  you.  I  have  not  read  the  letter 
Miss  Rose  gave  me.  It  was  scaled  and  meant  for 
mother.  I  have  been  trying  to  muster  the  courage 
to  give  it  to  her ;  but  first  I  mean  to  know  all  that 
this  box  can  tell  me." 

She  stooped  and  picked  up  the  heavy  tin  box, 
then  put  it  down,  and  looked  at  old  Lucy  depreca- 
tingly. 

"  I  hate  to  send  you  back  in  there,  Aunt  Lucy, 
even  for  an  hour  or  two ;  but  I  must  get  some 


A  STRANGE  P1L  GRIM  A  GE.  3  j  5 

money  and  provisions  ready  for  you,  and  then  I  am 
going  to  liberate  you  for  good." 

The  old  woman  rose  with  alacrity. 

"Don't  worry 'bout  me,  honey.  I  kin  do  ve'v 
well  for  a  little  while  longer.  Miss  Aggie  ain'  lei'' 
me  want  for  nothin',  on'y  she  say  she  goin'  put  me 
whar  my  tongue  can't  wag ;  and  arter  all,  Miss  Rose 
was  the  one  to  tell  it  all !" 

Hetty  rearranged  the  armoire  just  as  she  had 
found  it,  sending  little  apologetic  speeches  through 
the  closed  panel  with  every  garment  she  hung  upon 
the  hooks,  and  old  Lucy's  grateful  responses  came 
to  her  more  and  more  thickly  muffled  from  her 
room. 

The  chatter  of  the  boys  at  the  dinner-table,  over 
which,  in  her  mother's  absence,  she  was  compelled 
to  preside,  almost  drove  her  wild  that  day. 

Hugh  Maury  saw,  pitied,  and  misjudged  the  agita 
tion  she  could  not  conceal. 

"I  was  a  brute,"  he  said  to  himself,  "to  give  her 
th:it  letter  to  read ;  but  how  could  I  imagine  she  was 
in  love  with  the  fellow  i" 

ISTight  once  more  dropped  its  somber  mantle  over 
the  earth.  Mrs.  Ogclen  had  not  yet  returned.  The 
boys,  tired  with  a  long  afternoon  of  foot-ball,  were 
fretting  for  her  return.  The  lighted  lamps  were 
being  placed  upon  the  tea-table  and  upon  the  hall- 
table.  Hetty,  with  a  light  shawl  wrapped  about  her, 
was  walking  up  and  dovni  in  the  shadowy  gloom  of 
the  front  gallery,  nervously  formulating  the  confes 
sion  which  must  be  made  on  her  mother's  return, 
when  a  shrill  laugh  of  triumph  smote  upon  the  air, 


216  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

She  faced  in  the  direction  of  the  sound  with  a 
startled  cry ! 

There,  in  the  band  of  light  cast  upon  the  lawn 
from  the  lamp  just  placed  upon  the  hall-table,  stood 
mad  Parmelie  Hose,  dancing  gleefully  and  clapping 
her  hands  in  triumph  ! 

Hetty  had  scarcely  grasped  the  fact  of  this  un 
canny  presence  before  other  voices,  pitched  in  a  key 
of  shrill  alarm,  spread  the  blood-curdling  cry  of  lire  ! 
Lurid  tongues  of  flame  were  already  leaping  high 
above  the  doomed  roof-tree  of  the  old  Dabney 
mansion ! 

An  hour  later,  Hugh  Maury  leaned  panting  and 
exhausted  against  the  trunk  of  a  tree  on  the  flame- 
illumined  lawn,  wiping  the  soot-blackened  perspira 
tion  from  his  forehead. 

He  had  accomplished  the  work  of  ten  men,  and 
the  lawn  was  strewn  with  household  effects  which 
the  quarter  people,  working  zealously  under  his  com 
mand,  had  rescued  from  the  blazing  building. 

Hetty  and  the  boys  were  huddled  in  one  terrified 
group  just  where  lie  had  placed  them  in  the  lirst 
place,  imperatively  forbidding  them  to  move. 

There  was  no  help  for  the  old  homestead !  Xo 
lire-engines,  no  trained  hosemen !  ISTothing  for  it 
but  to  stand  there  and  see  the  grand  old  pile  de 
voured  by  the  hungry  flames.  Above  the  roaring  of 
the  flames  and  the  crash  of  the  falling  timbers  and 
tie  excited  voices  of  the  crowd  came  the  swift  roll 
of  wheels,  presently,  and  the  furious  trampling  of 
horses,  lashed  to  their  utmost  speed.  A  second 
more  and  he  felt  his  arm  gripped  fiercely,  while  Mrs. 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  ojy 

Ogden,  with  her  mouth  almost  pressed  against  his 
ear,  said  hoarsely  : 

"There  is  a  woman  perishing  in  those  flames! 
An  old  and  feeble  woman !  There,  behind  that 
gable  end.  The  flames  have  not  reached  her."' 

lie  tore  himself  loose  from  her  grasp  and  bounded 
toward  the  burning  building,  seizing  an  ax  from  the 
hand  of  a  negro  as  he  ran.  With  the  leap  of  a 
chamois  he  sprang  up  the  front  steps  and  disappeared 
within  the  main  hall,  which  had  not  yet  caught. 

It  was  all  done  so  quickly  that  Hetty,  rushing 
frantically  forward,  had  no  chance  to  bring  him  back. 
She  turned  on  her  mother  with  horror  in  her  face, 
crying  shrilly : 

"  You  have  sent  him  to  his  death  !  To  his  death, 
do  you  hear,  mother !  Why  did  you  do  it  \  Oh  ! 
call  him  back,  call  him  back.  There  is  no  one  there. 
Xo  one,  I  tell  you  ;  call  him  back !"  turning  fiercely 
on  the  gaping  negroes  about  her;  then — close  in  her 
mother's  ear — "  She  is  gone !  Your  prisoner  is  free. 
I  released  her  with  my  own  hands." 

"  Thank  God !" 

Mrs.  Ogden's  tall  form  swayed ;  she  flung  her  arms 
out  spasmodically  and  fell  in  a  limp,  helpless  heap  at 
her  daughter's  feet.  They  crowded  about  her, 
daughter,  sons  and  servants,  frightened  and  power 
less.  Horsemen  came  galloping  in.  The  flames  had 
summoned  the  neighbors.  Doctor  Yernon  pushed 
his  way  through  the  group  that  had  formed  about 
the  prostrate  woman. 

"  Only  a  faint,"  some  one  said,  encouragingly, 
putting  a  strong  arm  about  Hetty's  trembling  form. 


213  A  8TRANOE 

"  Take  the  poor  child  away,"  Doctor  Yernon  had 
whispered  in  his  ear.  "  It  is  death — her  heart !  I 
knew  she  would  go  this  way." 

There  was  a  mighty  crash  of  timbers  !  a  dense 
volume  of  black  smoke !  The  face  of  the  earth 
seemed  blotted  out  of  existence.  There  was  one 
horrified  cry  on  every  lip!  "Where  was  Hugh 
Maury  ?" 

Where  was  the  hero  who  had  taken  his  life  in  his 
hands  and  flung  it  from  him  as  a  thing  of  no  worth? 
]STo  one  could  tell. 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

A    PILGKIM    ONCE    MORE. 

SPRING'S  longest-lived  wild  flowers  had  drooped 
and  faded  from  off  the  face  of  the  earth !  The 
June  roses  had  dropped  from  their  stems!  The 
heat  of  midsummer  was  scorching  the  grass  and  the 
foliage  of  the  forest  trees  into  a  russet  hue,  when 
one  of  the  large  passenger  packets  that  ply  the 
Mississippi  River  between  Vicksburg  and  New 
Orleans  landed  at  llawkspoint  to  put  ashore  a 
traveling  party  which  attracted  unusual  attention 
from  the  loungers  about  the  store  galleries,  whose 
invariable  custom  it  was  to  swarm  about  the  big 
stage-plank  as  soon  as  it  swung  shoreward. 

The  long,  dull  days  were  upon  that  rural  com 
munity — days  in  which  there  was  little  to  be  done 
beside  waiting  for  the  crops  to  mature  in  the  broad 
cotton-fields,  upon  whose  success  or  failure  Hawks- 
point  depended  for  its  own  share  of  weal  or  woe. 

The  landing  of  any  stranger  at  this  sleepy  little 
burg  was  matter  of  curious  interest  at  all  times, 
but  this  small  traveling  party  would  have  excited 
curiosity  and  sympathetic  interest  at  any  point  by 
reason  of  the  peculiarly  helpless  units  it  was  com 
posed  of. 

The  one  man  of  the  party  was  apparently  totally 


220  A  &TRANOE 

blind  and  walked  by  the  aid  of  t\vo  stout  crutches. 
He  was  youthful-looking,  but  pale  and  emaciated  in 
the  extreme.  One  of  the  two  females  who  com 
posed  the  rest  of  the  party  was  a  slight  young  girl, 
with  a  refined  bearing,  and  a  pale,  gentle  face  lighted 
up  by  a  pair  of  sweet,  serious  eyes,  that  looked 
gravely  out  from  beneath  a  black  bonnet,  heavily 
bordered  with  a  long  crape  veil.  The  third  mem 
ber  of  this  striking  group  was  an  old  black  woman, 
who  hovered  in  a  restlessly  protecting  Avay  about 
her  two  companions. 

"  Husband  and  wife,"  said  one  Hawkspoint  loafer 
to  another,  as  the  three  walked  quietly  past  the 
group  of  loungers,  and  making  their  way  to  the 
nearest  store  gallery,  set  on  foot  inquiries  about  a 
conveyance  to  take  them  back  into  the  country. 

"  Brother  and  sister,"  said  another  man.  "  Guess 
they  are  traveling,  with  their  old  mammy,  for  that 
fellow's  health.  He  looks  pretty  well  used  up.  Hot 
Springs,  in  Arkansas,  is  where  he  wants  to  go. 
Wonder  who  they  are  consigned  to  ?" 

It  was  evident  no  one  was  expecting  them.  There 
was  no  carriage  from  any  of  the  outlying  wealthy 
plantations  to  meet  them.  Xo  inquiry,  even,  as  to 
their  probable  arrival  had  been  heard  from  any 
source. 

"  I  will  do  the  talking,"  the  young  woman  was 
heard  to  say,  as  between  them  all  they  got  the  man, 
who  handled  his  crutches  as  if  they  were  still  a  nov 
elty  to  him,  comfortably  established  in  an  arm-chair 
on  a  shady  corner  of  the  gallery,  where  the  old 
woman  stood  guard  over  him  and  the  satchels  while 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  gjjj 

the  young  one  penetrated  to  the  clerk's  desk  within 
to  arrange  for  a  conveyance. 

"  Doctor  Bemish's  is  where  you  want  to  go  to, 
Miss  ?"  the  clerk  said,  inquiringly,  closing  his  big 
ledger  with  alacrity  for  the  superior  occupation  of 
talking  to  a  very  handsome  young  woman,  who  an 
swered  him  in  a  voice  of  unusual  sweetness  : 

"  Yes,"  she  told  him.  "  Doctor  Bemish's  place  was 
their  point  of  destination." 

"  I  suppose  you  know  the  old  gentleman  is  very 
ill— ill  abedP 

"  Xo ;  had  not  heard  it." 

"  If  it  is  a  doctor  you  were  wanting  for — your 
brother — or,  a — your  husband— 

"  My  friend,"  she  corrected  him,  in  an  unmoved 
manner. 

"Friend?  Yes,  Miss,  beg  pardon.  I  was  about 
to  say,  we  have  sort  of  laid  Doctor  Bemish  on  the 
shelf  here.  Everybody  sends  for  Doctor  Murray 
that  wants  a  doctor.  He's  just  about  at  the  top  of 
the  local  ladder — lives  just  around  the  corner  here." 

The  young  woman  arranged  her  crape  veil  with  a 
nervous  twitch  before  answering,  icily  : 

"  I  was  inquiring  if  I  could  hire  a  wagon  of  any 
sort  to  take  my  party  out  to  Doctor  Bemish's  place. 
Can  you,  or  can  you  not,  help  me  in  this  matter  ?" 

"  Well,  Miss,  we've  got  most  everything  else  you 
could  ask  for  in  this  shop  but  a  vehicle.  But  there 
never  was  a  more  accommodating  fellow  on  earth 
than  Doctor  Murray.  He's  got  a  big  buggy  that 
will  hold- 
But  he  was  addressing  himself  to  space.  The 


222  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

young  lady  had  turned  from  him  abruptly  and  was 
prosecuting  her  inquiries  of  an  eld  negro  man,  who 
had  just  then  stepped  into  the  store  with  a  huge 
driver's  whip  in  his  hand. 

The  old  man  stood  perplexedly  heforo  her,  twirl 
ing  his  rimless  hat  between  his  hard  hands. 

"  You  seem  mouty  insistent,  Missy.  I  ain'  got 
a  thing  here  but  the  spring-wagon.  I  come  in  fur 
a  sack  of  oats.  It's  clean — -the  wagon,  I  mean — an' 
my  folks  goes  to  meetin'  in  it  uv  Sundays,  settin'  on 
cheers ;  but  w'ite  folks  couldn't  travil  that  way,  you 
know." 

"  No ;  I  don't  know  it.  I  could  and  will  if  Mr. — 
if  my  friend  can  stand  it.  "Wait  here  for  me." 

She  walked  away  rapidly  to  where  she  had  left 
the  blind  man  and  the  old  negress. 

"  I  have  found  a  wagon,"  she  said,  "  in  which  we 
can  go  to  Doctor  Bemish's  place,  if  we  are  able  to 
sit  on  chairs.  Aunt  Lucy  and  I  can  do  it,  but  how 
about  you,  Mr.  Maury  ?" 

Hugh  was  silent,  evidently  weighing:  the  chances 

O  «.  O  O 

of  his  being  able  to  retain  his  position  in  a  jolting 
wagon  with  his  useless  limbs  deprived  of  the 
crutches. 

'•  What  a  clod  I  am  become,"  he  said,  finally,  in  a 
bitter  voice. 

u  The  clerk  in  there  says  that  Doctor  Bemish  is 
very  ill,"  Hetty  said,  anxiously,  in  reply. 

"  Then  we  will  go  in  the  wagon  if  I  have  to  lie 
down  in  the  bottom.  Perhaps  I  am  already  too 
late.  Dear  child,  what  a  burden  I  am  on  you." 

"  Oh,  no !     Don't  say  that !     Surely,  God,  who 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  223 

has  permitted  you  to  live  through  such  horrible  suf 
ferings,  will  let  you  complete  your  strange  pilgrim 
age  with  a  heart  at  peace.  Dear,  dear  friend !  have 
you  not  already  made  atonement  ?" 

She  leaned  over  the  back  of  his  chair,  rearran^- 

o 

ing  the  green  shade  that  was  bound  about  his  brow, 
while  she  softly  poured  this  comfort  into  his  ears ; 
then  she  turned  back  to  the  waiting  teamster  and 
completed  her  arrangements  for  the  transferring  of 
her  party,  with  all  their  baggage,  to  the  wagon, 
in  which  the  chairs  had  already  been  placed. 

It  was  a  torturingly  slow  mode  of  progression, 
but  better  than  remaining  on  the  store  gallery  wait 
ing  for  any  chance  conveyance,  with  the  possible  al 
ternative  of  having  to  beg  a  night's  shelter  from 
some  one  of  the  villagers. 

Hugh  Maury  lay  upon  a  pile  of  traveling-shawls 
and  rugs  in  the  wagon-bed.  Hetty  and  old  Lucy 
swayed  helplessly  to  and  fro  with  every  motion  of 
the  springless  wagon  over  the  roads,  which  were 
heavy  with  the  summer  showers  and  rough  with 
deep-cut  wagon-ruts. 

Their  driver  was  cautiously  trying  to  circumvent 
an  unusually  deep  mud-hole,  in  an  especially  narrow 
point  of  the  road,  when  a  buggy,  drawn  by  a  pair  of 
glossy  bays,  dashed  suddenly  into  view  around  a 
bend  of  the  road  in  front  of  them. 

The  negro  driver  drew  rein  and  came  to  a  halt. 
A  gentleman  sitting  by  him,  who  up  to  that  time 
had  been  completely  absorbed  in  an  open  pamphlet 
before  him,  looked  up  and  regarded  the  party  in  the 
wagon  with,  bright,  curious  eyes.  As  the  wagon  came 


224  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

abreast  of  his  handsome  turnout  he  lifted  his  hat  in 
recognition  of  a  lady's  presence,  and  held  it  court 
eously  aloft  until  another  slow  revolution  of  the 
wheels  carried  them  beyond  him. 

His  driver  brought  the  silken  lash  of  his  buggy- 
whip  lightly  down  upon  the  bays'  flanks.  They  got 
under  way  with  a  spirited  bound  that  made  the 
polished  buggy-wheels  spin  around  rapidly.  Old 
Lucy  turned  her  head  to  look  after  the  dashing  team 
with  a  look  of  perplexity  on  her  face. 

"Honey,"  she  said,  laying  her  hand  softly  on 
Hetty's  arm,  "  who  does  that  look  lak  ?" 

Hetty  was  sitting  rigidly  erect,  with  a  drawn, 
hard  look  about  her  sweet  mouth  new  to  the  old 
woman's  experience.  She  was  pale  to  the  very  lips. 
Their  driver  officiously  answered  Lucy's  inquiry : 

"  That  were  Doctor  Murray.  He  jus'  'bout  lays 
over  all  de  doctors  that  ever  is  ben  here.  I  reckon 
he  ben  out  to  Mars'  Leonard  Glen's.  Folks  says 
him  and  Mn'ss  Thersic — she's  Mars'  Glen's  sister — is 
mighty  fond  uv  each  other.  But  he  don't  live  there 
now." 

"  Hold  your  gab,  my  friend,  and  attend  to  your 
mules,  will  you  2"  came  roughlv  from  Hugh  Maurv, 

i/  o        ^  rj  •     ' 

just  then ;  "  we  hired  your  wagon  and  not  your 
tongue." 

The  driver  subsided  into  unresentful  silence. 
Xone  of  the  little  party  cared  to  talk.  They,  or  at 
least  two  of  them,  had  plenty  of  food  for  serious  re 
flection. 

Hetty  was  thinking  of  that  awfully  sudden  death 
of  her  mother's ;  of  the  quiet  putting  away  of  the 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  ^5 

last  of  the  Dabney's  in  the  family  burying-ground ; 
of  the  rage  and  grief  of  the  boys  when  they  found 
they  were  to  be  immured  in  a  boarding-school ;  of 
that  last  visit  to  John  Eose's,  who  had  come  to  her 
to  tell  her  that  mad  Parmelie's  incendiary  freak  had 
compelled  him  to  put  her  into  an  asylum.  It  hr.d 
all  been  crowded  into  a  few  short  months.  And 
here  she  was,  come  to  put  into  her  cousin's  hands 
the  wallet  and  the  tin-box  which  were  to  tell  him  so 
much  of  importance.  He  looked  happy  and  prosper 
ous.  She  had  no  idea  that  the  things  she  had  taken 
so  much  pains  to  bring  to  him  would  add  one  iota  to 
his  happiness. 

-  She  is  his  happiness,"  she  said.     "  I  can  bring  him 
nothing.     I  can  take  from  him  nothing." 

Hugh  Maury  was  thinking  of  the  near  end  to  his 
strange  pilgrimage ;  of  his  miraculous  escape  from 
death  from  those  falling  timbers ;  of  how  he  had 
come  out  of  that  fiery  furnace  so  maimed  and  help 
less  that  he  knew  all  hope  of  finding  George  Bemish 
must  be  given  up  forever ;  of  how  lie  had  told  Hetty 
that  he  had  but  one  wish  left  on  earth,  and  that  was 
to  get  back  to  Doctor  Bemish  and  bare  his  whole 
soul  to  the  father  whom  he  had  wronged  equally  • 
with  the  son;  of  how  she  had  told  him  that  she  was 
resolved  to  see  her  cousin  once  more,  and  put  him 
again  in  his  rightful  place  as  head  of  the  Dabncy 
iamily  ;  of  how  they  had  arranged  to  take  this  long 
journey  together — she  to  be  eyes  for  him,  he  to  guide 
her  with  his  experience,  old  Lucy  to  care  for  them 
both. 

Old  Lucy  had  but  one  subject  of  reflection,  but 


226  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

that  one  filled  her  simple  soul  and  mind  through 
every  waking  moment.  It  was  of  God's  miraculous 
goodness  in  sending  Hetty  to  open  her  prison-door 
only  one  little  hour  before  mad  Parmelie  Rose  had 
laid  the  torch  in  the  wing-room  that  consigned  the 
Dabney  house  to  ruins. 

Yes,  there  was  plenty  to  think  of,  and  the  few 
miles  that  lay  between  Hawkspoint  and  the  Bemish 
Place  were  accomplished  with  no  great  amount  of 
discomfort  nor  any  needless  delay. 

"  Here  we  is,"  said  the  teamster,  cheerfully,  ignor 
ing  the  fact  that  he  had  been  snubbed.  "  And  I 
'low  the  old  doctor  gwine  be  mightily  'stonish'  when 
he  find  a  purty  young  lady  come  to  see  him." 

He  helped  the  crippled  man  tenderly  from  the 
wagon  and  put  him  carefully  on  his  crutches,  then 
stood  looking  wonderingly  after  the  strange  trio 
that  was  about  to  invade  the  doctor's  privacy. 

The  travelers  met  an  unexpected  repulse  on  the 
threshold  of  the  doctor's  house.  The  large  front 
door  stood  hospitably  wide  open.  On  one  side  of 
the  long  main  hall  stood  a  cane  settee,  which  at  that 
moment  was  being  utilized  as  a  lounge.  A  huge 
•recumbent  figure  occupied  its  entire  length — more, 
in  fact,  as  a  shock  of  red  hair  protruded  over  the 
arm  of  the  settee  neares^  the  front  door,  and  a  pair 
of  heavy  shoes,  badly  in  need  of  polishing,  were 
poised  conspicuously  over  the  other  arm. 

Hetty  knocked  timidly  on  the  open  door.  There 
was  something  in  the  deadly  stillness  of  the  house 
that  intimidated  her. 

The  man  on  the  lounge  slowly  uncoiled  himself, 


A  STRANGE  PIL  GRIM  A  GE.  307 

and  bringing  his  feet  cautiously  together  on  the 
resonant  oil-clothed  floor,  stared  at  the  intruders 
stupidly  for  a  full  second.  Then  he  got  up  and 
came  toward  them,  smoothing  his  shaggy  red  hair 
down  with  both  hands. 

"  I  reckon  I'd  just  about  dropped  off,"  he  said,  "  and 
didn't  hear  you  come  in.  The  old  man  is  too  sick  to 
prescribe  for  folks  to-day.  Don't  know  as  he  ever 
will  prescribe  again." 

"  But  we  are  not  sick  people,  and  we  want  to  see 
him  on  a  matter  that  concerns  himself,"  said  Hetty, 
who  was  the  appointed  spokesman  for  the  party. 

"  It  can't  be  did,  Miss.  Doctor  Bemish  is  a  very 
sick  man.  He  ought  to  have  a  doctor  long  before 
this,  but  he's  as  obstinate  as  a  team  uv  mules.  He 
went  off  into  a  sort  of  faint  about  daybreak,  and 
ain't  spoken  since.  I've  sent  for  Murray.  Looking 
for  him  every  minute." 

While  this  short  colloquy  had  been  going  on, 
Hugh  Maury  had  stood  with  his  head  leaning  for 
ward,  eagerly  listening  with  that  intentness  which  is 
so  pathetic  in  the  newly-blinded.  Now  he  leaned 
forward  and  laid  one  of  his  long,  thin  lingers  on  the 
man's  coat-sleeve. 

"  Isn't  this  Ben  McBride  ?"  he  asked,  eagerly. 

u  That's  my  name,  sir." 

"  Doctor  Bemish's  overseer  ?" 

"  That's  my  occupation,  sir." 

"  And  you  don't  know  me  ?" 

The  sha^ffv  man  looked  him  carefully  over  from 

OO«y 

head  to  foot,  shook  his  head,  and  answered,  bluntly : 
"  You've  got  the  advantage  of  me,  sir." 


228  -4  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

"  Isn't  there  even  a  suggestion  of  Hugh  Maury  in 
this  battered  hulk  of  a  body  ?"  the  blind  man  cried, 
spreading  his  poor,  thin  hands  out  piteously. 

The  overseer  recoiled  several  steps  and  stared  at 
him  incredulously. 

"  Hugh  Maury !  Good  God,  man,  what  have  you 
been  doing  to  yourself  ?" 

"  Spending  himself  for  others !"  said  Hetty,  dash 
ing  from  her  eyes  the  tears  that  Hugh's  piteous  ap 
peal  had  brought  into  them. 

The  shaggy  man  led  the  party  into  the  Jra wing- 
room,  almost  supporting  Hugh  in  his  arms. 

"  You  were  always  my  good  friend,  Ben,"  said 
Hugh,  in  a  calmer  voice ;  "  you  must  stand  by  me 
now.  See  if  Doctor  Bemish  can  possibly  be  inter 
viewed.  For  his  own  sake  I  ask  it." 

"  If  he  is  at  himself  he  will  see  you,  I  know.  It 
was  only  yesterday  that  the  poor  old  man  was 
moaning,  in  his  sleep  :  '  If  only  I  knew  how  to  find 
Maury  1'  I  tried  to  get  out  of  him  what  he  wanted 
of  you  ;  for,  you  know,  I  thought  perhaps — remem 
bering  what  good  friends  you  and  George  used  to 
be  (poor  George) — he  might  want  to  leave  the  prop 
erty  to  }Tou,  fixed  so  that  George  (if  he  ever  turned 
up)  might  get  it,  you  know.  Poor  old  man;  it  was 
that  scrape  of  George's  that]  just  wore  him  plumb 
out.  You  think  he's"  ever  got  so  much  as  a  line 
from  the  scamp  ?" 

Hugh  put  out  his  hands  with  a  gesture  of  pain. 

"  Go,"  he  said,  hoarsely, "  and  see  if  he  will  let  me 
come  in  to  him." 

The  overseer  started  across  the  hall  to  do  hia  bid- 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  229 

ding,  stopped,  glanced  toward  the  front  gate,  and 
retraced  his  steps  toward  the  parlor. 

"  I  see  Murray  just  gettin'  out  of  his  buggy  at  the 
front  gate.  I  think  it  would  be  safest  to  let  him 
examine  the  old  man  first.  I'll  come  for  you  the 
minute  there  is  a  chance." 

He  closed  the  door  to  the  drawing-room  and  with 
drew.  Sitting  there,  in  the  darkened  room,  Hetty 
could  hear  her  cousin  come  briskly  up  the  walk,  ex 
change  a  few  words  with  the  overseer,  then  their 
voices  died  away,  and  the  tired  travelers  were  left  to 
their  own  disturbing  conjectures. 


A  STUANGP,  PILGRIMAGE. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

LIBERATED. 

IT  SEEMED  to  Hetty,  sitting  there,  quivering 
with  nervousness  in  every  limb;  anxious,  and 
yet  dreading  the  coming  of  the  moment  when  she 
should  stand  face  to  face  once  more  with  the  cousin 
upon  whom  she  had  been  lavishing  the  unsought  de 
votion  of  her  fresh  young  heart  ever  since  the  mo 
ment  of  their  first  meeting — as  if  an  age  passed  be 
fore  the  parlor-door  once  more  opened  to  admit  the 
tall  form  of  the  overseer. 

He  came  in  as  softly  as  such  a  huge  animal  possi 
bly  could  come,  and  was  followed  by  a  small  black 
girl,  wrho  blinked  at  the  unexpected  guests  in  a  half- 
awake  fashion  over  the  chimney  of  a  kerosene  lamp 
which  had  evidently  been  smearily-brightened  for 
the  occasion.  The  overseer  seated  himself  by  Hugh. 
He  looked  very  grave. 

"  I  ain't  so  certain,  my  boy,  but  what  you've  come 
too  late,  after  all.  Murray  looks  mighty  grave,  and 
says  he  can't  think  of  but  one  thing  that  would  do 
the  old  man  any  good,  and  that's  to  see  George 
brought  home  free  from  suspicion.  Now,  you  know, 
that's  manifestly  impossible,"  he  said,  with  empha 
sis ;  "  for  even  if  folks  knowed  where  George  Be- 
mish  was  to  be  got  at,  he'd  be  in  danger  of  arrest 
the  minute  he  showed  his  face  here." 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  j>;j{ 

"  Nothing  is  impossible !"  said  Hugh,  impatiently. 
"  Go  tell  your  Doctor  Murray  that  if  I  cannot  see 
Doctor  Bemish  I  must  see  him  at  once — at  once !"  he 
i  epeated,  imperatively. 

"  You  sound  more  like  the  old  Hugh  than  you 
looks,"  said  McBride,  with  a  short  laugh.  "  Doctor 
Murray  said  he'd  come  in  presently ;  but  I  thought 
maybe  the  young  lady  might  like  to  be  showed  to  a 
bedroom  at  once,  if  she's  come  very  far  to-day." 

"  The  young  lady,"  said  Hugh,  taking  time  at  last 
to  think  of  patient  Hetty's  separate  mission,  "  is  a 
cousin  of  Doctor  Murray's,  who  has  come  on  here 
to  see  him  about  family  matters  of  importance." 

"  That,  indeed !"  said  Mr.  McBride,  with  a  rising 
inflection.  "  All  the  same,  Miss — Miss— 

"  Ogden  is  my  name,"  Hetty  said,  curtly. 

"  Thank  }TOU,  Miss.  All  the  same,  Miss  Ogden,  if 
you'd  ruther  be  relieved  of  your  hat  and  things, 
that  door,  there,  will  take  you  into  the  spare  bed 
room,  where  the  doctor's  lady  visitors  always  sleeps. 
There  ain't  been  any  of  them  here  lately,  but  I  tell 
you  this  old  house  used  to  know  something  about 
the  light  fantastic-toe  ;  didn't  it,  Hugh  ?  Here,  you 
Demps,  show  the  young  lady  to  the  spare  room." 

The  door  opened  once  more,  at  that  moment,  and 
Archibald  Murray  peered  into  the  dimly-lighted 
parlor  to  ask : 

"  Is  the  gentleman  who  wished  to  see  Doctor  Be 
mish  in  here,  Mr.  McBride  ?" 

"  Cousin  Archie  !  Cousin  Archie !  don't  you  know 
me  at  all  ?"  was  the  startling  response  to  this,  as 
from  out  the  gloom  of  the  parlor  a  girlish  figure  had 


233  -4  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

sprung  toward  him,  two  slim,  white  hands  had 
clasped  his,  and  by  the  light  of  the  swinging  hall- 
lamp  the  doctor  could  see  a  sweet  }Toung  face  quiv 
ering  with  pain  in  its  every  line.  He  drew  her  out 
into  the  bright  light  of  the  bis:  hall,  stared  into 

a  o  o  / 

her  face  confusedly  for  a  second,  then  asked,  in  a 
voice  of  mixed  amazement  and  incredulity : 

"Is  it  Hetty — my  little  cousin,  Hetty  Ogden? 
And  did  I  pass  you  in  a  wagon  to-day  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes,  yes ;  but  take  me  somewhere  where  I 
can  talk  to  you.  !Nbt  here,  standing  in  this  great, 
cold  hall." 

She  shivered  and  clung  to  him  nervously. 

"  But  what  does  this  mean  ?"  Archie  asked,  laying 
his  hand  upon  her  long  black  veil,  "  and  what  are 
you  doing  here,  my  child  ?" 

"  You  are  sorry  to  see  me  \  I  can  see  it  in  your 
face." 

The  tears  were  in  her  eyes. 

He  drew  her  toward  him  impulsively  and  kissed 
her  wet  eyelids,  smiling  all  the  while. 

"  Always  in  tears,  little  cousin  ?  ISTo,  I  am  not 
sorry  to  see  you.  Just  at  present  I  believe  I  am  so 
bewildered,  youse^,  that  perhaps  I  have  not  said  the 
conventional  things.  You  seemed  to  have  material 
ized  so  suddenly,  you  know." 

u  I  hate  conventional  things — hate  them,"  said  the 
girl,  stamping  her  foot  passionately.  "  I've  got  so 
much  to  tell  }^ou.  I  could  not  write  it ;  I  could  not 
send  it,  even  by  him,"  pointing  toward  the  parlor- 
door.  "  There  were  things  I  had  to  bring  to  you 
myself,  things  I  had  to  tell  you  myself  ;  I  have  not 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  5)33 

come  here  to  give  you  trouble,  Cousin  Archie,  nor 
to  say  anything  that  would — would—  She  had 

been  overwrought,  poor  child !  Her  nerves  gare 
way  suddenly,  and  with  a  broken  and  unintelligible 
termination  to  her  sentence  she  burst  into  hysterical 
sobbing. 

"  Poor  child,  poor  little  Hetty,  you  need  rest  and 
sleep,"  Archibald  said  kindly.  "  If  what  you  have 
to  tell  me  concerns  my  own  fortunes  exclusively,  it 
must  wait.  I  shall  not  let  you  say  another  word 
until  you  are. thoroughly  rested.'' 

';  Mr.  McBride  said  I  might  go  in  there,"  Hetty 
sobbed  hysterically,  pointing  toward  a  door  at  the 
farther  end  of  the  hall. 

Archie  led  her  toward  it.  It  was  a  spacious  bed 
room  all  ready  for  her  occupancy. 

"  Xow  we  must  find  you  an  attendant — a  lady's 
maid,"  he  said,  himself  fumbling  awkwardly  with 
the  black  bonnet-ribbons  under  her  chin. 

"  I  have  one,"  said  Hetty,  smiling  at  him  through 
her  tears,  "  but  she  is  in  a  heap  on  the  parlor  floor, 
sound  asleep.  Aunt  Lucy  is  with  me." 

"  Old  Lucy,  my  uncle's  housekeeper,  my  old 
friend !" 

"  Yes.  She  is  devoted  to  you  yet.  You  don't 
deserve  it " 

"  And  your  mother  let  you  come  to  — 

"  Mother  is  dead !  The  old  place  is  yours  once 
more,  Cousin  Archie,  and  I  - 

Archie  placed  a  finger  over  her  lips  :  "  Not  one 
word  more !  You  must  sleep,  my  child  ;  my  own 
affairs  can  and  must  wait.  There  are  far  graver  mat- 


234  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

ters  for  immediate  concern  on  hand  under  this  roof. 
Perhaps  an  old  man's  life  may  hang  in  the  balance. 
]STow  good-night.  I  will  see  that  you  have  some  tea 
brought  to  you,  and  in  the  morning,  when  you  are 
strong  and  bright,  we  will  have  a  long  talk  over 
family  matters.  Good-night,  dear  little  cousin !" 

He  drew  her  toward  him  and  kissed  her  good 
night.  She  stood  where  ho  had  left  her,  just  as  she 
had  stood  once  before,  blushing  and  paling  from  the 
sweet  intoxication  of  his  kisses.  But  the  two  years 
that  had  passed  over  her  head  since  he  had  kissed 
her  first  under  the  oaks  at  home  had  brought  to  her 
some  of  those  subtile  instincts  that  the  years  bring 
only  too  soon  to  women  who  feel  and  love  the  most. 

UI  am  only  his  'little  cousin!'  His  kisses  mean 
nothing!  He  would  hold  her  longer,  arid  his  lips 
would  part  from  hers  reluctantly.  Ah,  well,  I  knew 
it  all  before  I  came!  Perhaps  he  will  not  think  of 
me  only  as  a  child  to  be  petted  and  put  early  to  bed 
when  I  have  told  him  everything.  He  was  so  anx 
ious  to  dispose  of  me  to-night !" 

Yes,  he  had  been  very  anxious  to  dispose  of  her. 
As  he  had  said,  the  information  she  had  come  so  far 

to  communicate  could  wait  for  the  morrow.     Just 

• 
then    there  was  graver  and  weightier   matter   on 

hand. 

The  old  man  whom  he  had  so  cruelly  misjudged, 
the  father  of  the  man  whom  Theresa  Glen  loved, 
was  lying  prostrate  !  Hovering  between  life  and 
death !  There  was  only  one  hope  for  him.  George 
Bemish  must  be  brought  to  his  bedside.  Who 
would  dare  take  the  responsibility  of  bringing  the 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  235 

hermit  of  the  island  back  to  his  father's  house  ? 
Perhaps  this  cripple,  whom  McBride  represented  as 
George  Bemish's  best  friend  in  the  days  gone  by, 
could  aid  him  at  this  critical  juncture.  If  he  could 
not,  no  one  could.  He  found  IIuo-li  Maurv  alone. 

o  », 

The  overseer  had  just  disappeared,  steering  the  only 
half-aroused  Aunt  Lucy  toward  the  spare  bed 
chamber.  Doctor  Murray  seated  himself  on  the 
sofa  by  the  blind  man  and  entered  into  conversa 
tion  with  him  abruptly : 

''  Pardon  me,"  he  said,  "  if  I  say  to  you  at  once 
that  unless  you  are  prepared  to  relieve  Doctor 
Bemish  on  the  score  of  that  unhappy  affair  of  his 
son's  it  will  be  useless  for  you  to  see  him." 

"  That  is  what  I  am  here  for,"  said  Hugh,  with  an 
audible  catch  in  his  voice.  "  Did  McBride  give  you 
my  name  ?" 

"  He  did  not.  He  simply  said  an  old  friend  of  the 
family." 

"  He  should  have  said  an  old  enemy  of  the  family. 
My  name  is  Maury — Hugh  Maury." 

"  Hugh — Maury  !  Great  heavens  !  Can  it  be  pos 
sible?  Why,  I  had  heard  - 

"  That  Maury  was  a  dashing,  handsome  dog." 

Hugh  took  the  words  out  of  his  mouth  and  went 
on,  with  bitter  vehemence :  "  That  he  had  success 
with  women ;  that  his  heart  was  as  light  as  a 
troubadour's,  and  that  the  loveliest  woman  in  all  the 
country-side  had  promised  to  be  his  wife." 

"  Yes,  I  had  heard  all  that — and  more." 

"  But  that  was  before  he  had  taken  the  life  of  a 
miscreant  in  hot  blood,  because  that  miscreant  had 


236  A  8THANQE  PILGRIMAGE. 

spoken  insulting  words  of  the  woman  he  loved/' 
Hugh  resumed,  fiercely.  "  That  was  before  lie  had 
permitted  his  friend  to  bear  the  odium  of  suspicion 
for  awhile,  believing  that  his  friend,  a  man  of 
means  and  influence  and  innocence,  could  readily 
escape  the  fangs  of  the  law.  That  was  before  he 
started  out  on  his  weary  pilgrimage  to  find  that 
friend  and  bring  him  home  in  triumph  to  the  be 
reaved  old  man  who  lies  in  yonder  ;  that  was  before, 
in  the  flames  of  a  burning  house,  Nemesis  overtook 
him,  and  left  him  the  maimed  and  battered  thing 
you  see." 

"  Good  God  !  Surely  you  have  atoned  for  your 
rash  deed,  if  physical  suffering  can  atone  for  moral 
wrong-doing.  From  my  soul  I  feel  for  you." 

"  Not  yet — I  have  not  atoned  yet.  The  atone 
ment  will  not  l>e  complete  until  I  proclaim  to  all 
whom  it  may  concern  that  I,  and  not  George  Bemish, 
took  the  life  of  Adrien  Mieaelet  that  day.  That 
was  what  I  came  back  here  for ;  and  I  had  meant 
to  tell  the  old  man  that  although  I  cdtild  not  find 
his  son,  I  could  clear  the  name  of  Bemish  from  tho 
stain  of  blood-guiltiness.  That  is  what  has  crushed 
him.  I  know  the  old  man.  He  was  proud  of  his 
name  and  of  his  son.  I  meant  him  to  have  stood 
by  my  side  while  I  made  my  public  proclamation  to 
the  authorities,  and  gave  up  this  fragment  of  a  body 
for  them  to  do  as  they  would  by  it.  Let  justice 
have  its  way." 

"  Have  no  fears  for  yourself.  Leave  that  to  me. 
But  you  may  still  bring  George  Bemish  home  in 
triumph  to  his  father !" 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  237 

\ 

a  "What  ?  McBride  tells  me  he  has  never  been 
seen  or  heard  of  since  that  night  he  broke  jail." 

"  I  can  take  you  to  him." 

"  You  take  me  to  George  Bemish  ?" 

"Yes—//" 

"  When  2" 

"  To-night — within  an  hour — now,  if  }TOU  sav  so." 

"  jSrow — now,  at  once  !  Oh,  God  !  I  thank  Thee 
for  directing  these  last  steps  of  my  strange  pilgrim 
age  !"  His  trembling  hands  were  stretched  eagerly 
toward  Archibald  Murray.  "  £u>w,  at  once — at 
once  !  In  an  hour  it  may  be  too  late !" 

ki  Wait  here  for  me,"  said  Archie,  pressing  his 
hand  sympathetically.  "  I  will  keep  you  \vaiting 
no  longer  than  can  possibly  be  avoided." 

Half  an  hour  later,  a  skiff,  with  Archibald  Mur 
ray  and  the  overseer,  McBride,  at  the  oars,  shot  out 
of  the  cove  and  darted  like  an  arrow  toward  the 
little  Island,  which  lay  in  a  dark  mass  of  verdure  a 
mile  and  a  half  from  the  main-land.  Hugh  Maury 
sat  in  the  stern-seat. 

George  Bemish  heard  the  sound  of  their  quick, 
strong  rowing  long  before  they  reached  the  spot  to 
which  Archibald  Murray  had  tracked  the  old  man 
on  that  stolen  exploration  of  his,  months  before. 
His  hearing  had  grown  preternaturally  acute.  That 
was  not  his  father  rowing  !  He  had  been  a  prey  to 
the  keenest  anxiety  for  days.  His  father  had  never 
before  allowed  so  long  an  interval  to  elapse  between 
his  visits.  His  stock  of  provisions  was  running  low, 
and  he  had  no  means  of  communicating  with  the 


6 


main-land.      What   if   those   swift,    sturdy   rowers 


238  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

should  be  the  officers  of  justice  come  to  fetch  him 
to  trial  for  a  deed  he  had  never  committed  ?  Who 
else? 

He  would  not  be  taken!  At  that  moment  he 
cursed  himself,  for  the  hundredth  time,  for  having 
flung  Hugh  Maury's  knife  into  the  bayou  that  day 
when  he  had  suddenly  come  upon  Adrien's  bleeding 
body.  It  had  never  occurred  to  him  that  suspicion 
could  possibly  be  turned  upon  himself.  He  had 
meant  only  to  dispose  of  all  proof  against  his  friend 
as  quickly  as  possible. 

The  boat  came  nearer  and  nearer !  He  took  a 
loaded  pistol  «in  his  hand  and  walked  slowly  toward 
the  spot  where  his  father  always  landed.  Evidently 
some  one  who  knew  their  trysting-place  was  in  com 
mand  of  this  expedition. 

Presently  there  floated  to  him  through  the  dark 
ness  the  familiar  signal- whistle.  He  answered  it 
joyously,  and  almost  running  toward  the  spot,  called 
out  eagerly: 

"  Father !" 

He  stopped  aghast !  By  the  dim  starlight  he 
could  see  three  dark  forms  in  the  boat.  The  men 
in  the  boat  could  hear  the  quick  click  of  a  trigger. 

"Who  goes  there?"  he  called  out,  peremptorily. 

"Hugh  Maury,  come  to  liberate  George  Be- 
mish  !"  came  back  promptly  from  the  man  who  sat 
in  the  stern  of  the  boat. 

There  was  a  second  of  profound  stillness ;  then  the 
sound  of  a  strong  man's  sobs  broke  tempestuously 
upon  the  quiet  night-air. 

Vigorous  arms  helped  the  blind  man  to  a  firm 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  239 

footing  on  the  briery  banks.  A  hand  was  held  out 
to  him  from  above,  and  there,  in  the  stillness  and 
the  darkness,  with  the  bright-eyed  stars  striving  to 
illumine  the  scene  of  their  loving  reconciliation, 
Hugh  Maury  made  his  peace  with  the  friend  who 
had  borne  the  burden  of  obloquy  that  was  rightfully 
his  so  long. 

"I  pray  God  it  has  not  come  too  late  to  save  the 
old  man !"  said  Ben  McBride,  as  the  murmur  of 
their  voices  came  to  them  in  the  boat. 

To  which  Archibald  Murray  responded  with  a 
fervent  "  Amen !" 


240  -4  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 


w 


CHAPTER  XX. 

BENOTCIATION. 

OEX-OUT  with  the  fatigue  and  the  excitement 
of  the  day  that  terminated  a  long  and  tire 
some  journey,  Hetty  slept  late  and  heavily  the  next 
morning.  Into  the  midst  of  a  confused  dream,  in 
which  she  was  trying  to  prevent  mad  Parmelie  Rose 
from  applying  the  torch  to  the  wood-work  of  the 
attic  door  at  home,  and  pleading  with  her  mother 
not  to  go  to  Mrs.  St.  Leger's  dinner-party  in  a  wind 
ing-sheet,  and  contending  with  the  clerk  out  at 
Hawkspoint  because  he  insisted  upon  putting  a  piano- 
stool  in  the  wagon  for  her  to  sit  on,  there  came  the 
sound  of  mingled  sobs  and  laughter. 

Hetty  sat  bolt  upright,  with  a  start,  and  gazed 
confusedly  about  the  unfamiliar  premises. 

"  Land  uv  Moses,  honey,  I  thought  you  never  was 
goin'  to  wake  up,  and  Maro'  Archie  tol'  Hie  p'intedly 
you  warn'  to  be  Avoke  up." 

"  Have  you  seen  my  cousin  ?" 

"Seed  Mars'  Archie?  Ain't  I,  though?  With 
these  ve'y  ol'  eyes  uv  my  own,  which  I  never  look' 
forward  to  no  how,  honey.  An'  ain't  he  turn'  out 
that  great  and  impo'tant  that  fo'  he  have  time  to 
swaller  his  food  good,  folks  is  a-callin'  for  him  ?" 

"  Has  he  gone  ?"  said  Hetty,  falling  listlessly  back 
among  her  pillows. 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  *±\ 

"  Jus'  for  a  little  ways,  honey.  He  lef  word  lie 
jus'  cross  over  de  lake  to  Mars' — Mars' " 

"  Glen !"  Hetty  suggested,  with  asperity. 

"  That's  the  ve'y  name.  Mars'  Glen  got  a  'tack 
of  colic,  I  hear  the  boy  say  that  come  for  Archie — 
you  is  got  a  good  mem'ry,  chile — an'  he  be  back  by 
ten  o'clock,  p'intedly  to  see  you." 

"What  time  is  it  now?"  Hetty  asked,  with 
languid  indifference. 

£i  On  the  stroke  er  nine.  Mars'  Maury  he  come  to 
the  door  an'  tell  me  to  say  he  hope  you  ain'  broke 
down  wid  lookin'  arter  him,  so  helpless  lak ;  and  the 
young  gentleman,  he  send  you  word,  so  polite  lak, 
that  he  hope  you  will  consider  the  whole  house  at 
yo'  disposal." 

"  The  young  gentleman  ?  "What  young  gentle 
man  ?" 

"  The  old  gentleman's  son,  which  got  home  ve'y 
unexpected  last  night  arter  you  an'  me  was  gone  to 
bed.  The  folks  in  the  kitchen  say  the  ol'  man  begin 
to  pick  up  fom  the  ve'y  moment  hes  son  sot  foot 
in  his  sick-room.  I  tell  you,  honey,  he  is  that  good- 
looking  mos'  anybody  would  be  the  better  for  bein' 
wid  him.  He  smile  jus'  like  a  angel  when  he  tell 
me  to  have  ev'ything  got  you  kin  possubly  want, 
fc'holy  de  Lord  is  straightenin'  things  up  all  'round. 
The  folks  in  the  kitchen  say 

'•'  Have  you  told  iny  Cousin  Archibald  anything 
about  home  affairs,  Aunt  Lucy  ?"  Hetty  said,  turn 
ing  petulantly  from  a  consideration  of  any  other 
subject  —  "  about  mother,  and  the  fire,  and  the 
boys  '<" 


242  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

"  Ain't  I,  though !"  said  old  Lucy,  proudly. 
"  Ain't  him  an'  me  ben  settin'  on  the  back  steps  in 
the  sun  for  all  the  worl',  honey,  lak  we  used  to  set 
at  home  when  he  come  back  from  college,  an'  talk, 
an'  talk,  an'  talk !  Mars'  Archie  ain'  change'  none, 
'ceptin'  he  looks  a  little  older,  an'  grayer,  an'  more 
sperienced.  The  folks  in  the  kitchen  say  Mars' 
Archie  jus'  cuttin'  a  clean  swad  as  he  go  'long.  He 
at  the  top  of  the  ladder  as  a  physicianer." 

Hetty  was  languidly  progressing  with  her  toilet 
all  this  time.  What  difference  did  it  make  how  she 
arranged  her  hair  ?  Who  qared  whether  she  looked 
pretty  or  ugly?  Her  CousiiL-Archibald  had  not  al 
lowed  her  coming  to  interfere  with  his  most  unim 
portant  calls.  He  had  pr.t  I  )  hist  night  for 

that  sick  old  man,  cr.d  r.cvr  I.o  \  ;a  gone  without 
even  waiting  to  give  her  r,  (_.cc(i-r-c:ning.  Was  it 
for  this  she  had  come  so  far  ? 

Tears  of  disappointment  sprang  to  her  eyes.  She 
did  not  know  herself  how  great  had  been  the  strain 
of  the  past  few  months  upon  her  system.  She  sank 
back  in  a  laro-e  chair  and  gave  way  to  such  a  burst 

o  c  f 

of  tears  as  alarmed  old  Lucy. 

"  Honey,  my  sweet  chile,  don't  go  on  that  way. 
You  scares  ol'  Lucy — you  really  does,  honey.  You's 
hungry,  that's  what's  the  matter.  The  young  gen 
tleman  say  I  was  to  fetch  yo'  breakfus'  in  here  when 
you  was  ready  for  it.  I  gwine  fetch  it  right 
now." 

She  bustled  out  of  sight  before  Hetty  could  pre 
vent  her  going,  and  reappeared  in  an  incredibly 
short  time,  bringing  in  a  large  tray,  on  one  end  of 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  243 

which  lay  a  bunch  of  roses,  whose  dewy  fragrance 
filled  the  apartment  with  sweetness. 

"  Delicious  !"  Hetty  cried,  seizing  them  with  both 
hands  and  inhaling  their  perfume  delightedly. 

"  He  cut  'em  himself,  honey,  wid  lies  ve'y  own 
hands." 

"  Who  ?" 

"  The  young  gentleman — the  old  gentleman's  son. 
And  seem'  as  he  don't  know  you's  a  real  purty  one, 
my  sweet,  but  mout  be  real  oP  and  ugly,  it  shows 
real  good  -  heartedness ;  that  is  just  what  it 
shows." 

"  It  does,  indeed,"  said  Hetty,  "  and  you  must  tell 
him  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  him,  and  that  the 
roses  did  me  more  good  than  the  breakfast." 

"  I  don't  know  'bout  dat.  You's  tried  the  roses 
an'  you  ain't  tried  the  breakfas',"  said  Lucy,  practi 
cally  ;  "  but  that's  a  real  purty  speech,  an'  ef  I  can 
recollect  it  all  I'll  tell  him,  though  he  tol'  me  to  tell 
you  he  hope  you  find  yo'self  well  enough  to  appear 
at  the  dinner-table.  I  tell  you,  honey,  these  folks  is 
fus'-class.  There  ain'  no  foolin'  Lucy  whar  quality 
folks  is  concerned.  An'  dar  !" 

This  final  exclamation  was  caused  by  Archibald 
Murray's  passage  across  the  strip  of  lawn  which 
Hetty's  window  gave  to  her  view. 

"  My  boy  done  got  back !" 

"Now  then,"  said  Archie,  coming  in  a  second 
later  ;  "  doubtless  my  little  sensitive  plant  thinks  I 
have  been  treating  her  cavalierly  this  morning  ;  but 
you  know,  my  dear  child,  that  the  doctors  in  a 
country  neighborhood  have  to  be  like  the  firemen  in 


o±4  A  STB  A  NG  E  PU,  G  RLVA  GE. 

a  big  city — ready  to  go  ^t  the  first  alarm.  The 
distances  are  so  great-'" 

How  immeasurably  young  and  small  he  made  her 
feel  with  his  "dear  child!"  and  how  strong  and 
vigorous  and  handsome  he  looked,  coming  in  from 
the  crisp  morning  ride  across  the  lake.  She  was  not 
wise  enough  to  read  the  lines  of  thoughtful  care 
that  lay  across  his  broad,  smooth  forehead,  or  to 
penetrate  the  secret  t3f  that  look  of  patient  endur 
ance  which  had  darkened  and  deepened  his  fine  eyes. 

"  You  have  been  across  the  lake  to  Mr.  Glen's  T 
she  said,  drawing  out  of  his  clasp  the  hand  he  held 
caressingly. 

"  Yes.  I  never  neglect  a  call  from  Glencove.  It 
was  my  first  home  when  I  came  here,  and  I  have 
dear,  good  friends  under  its  roof." 

"  Miss  Theresa  Glen  lives  there  ?" 

"  Yes.     She  is  Mr.  Glen's  sister,  you  know." 

"How  should  I  know  anything,"  said  Hetty, 
bitterly,  "  when,  after  you  left  Virginia,  you  never 
wrote  a  single  line  back — never  but  once,  and  that 
was  because  you  wanted  a  book '?" 

"  I  am  afraid  I  have  been  very  remiss,"  Archie 
said,  gently  ;  k*  but  I  was  in  a  great  deal  of  trouble 
when  I  left  Virginia,  and  I  did  not  suppose  there 
was  any  one  there  who  cared  to  enter  into  a  regular 
correspondence  with  me.  I  suppose  the  books  were 
all  burned  up  in  the  fire.  Aunt  Lucy  has  given  me 
a  very  graphic  account  of  your  loss." 

"  Your  loss,  my  cousin,"  Hetty  said,  laying  her 
hand  on  his.  "  Please  forgive  me  my  childish  petu 
lance  just  now.  I  did  feel  cross.  I  thought  you 


A  STRAXQfi  PILQ&LMAOZ.  045 

disapproved  of  my  coming,  and   set  it   clown  as  a 
girlish  freak,  and  wished  I  had  stayed  at  home." 

"  Why,  what  an  unreasonable  little  woman  it  is !" 
Archie  said,  lifting  her  face  by  putting  his  hand 
under  her  chin,  ''and  how  pretty  you  have  grown. 
Do  you  know,  I  have  never  thought  of  you  as  any 
thing  but  a  kind-hearted,  sweet-faced  little  girl, 
with  a  big  straw  hat  hanging  over  her  back,  just  as 
I  saw  you  that  first  time,  you  know  f ' 

"  Yes,  I  know  it,''  she  said,  with  quaint  composure, 
interposing  George  Bemish's  roses  between  her  chin 
and  his  hand  ;  "  but  I  have  a  great  deal  to  tell  you. 
Cousin  Archibald,  before  Aunt  Lucy  and  I  start 
home  — 

"  Home !" 

"  Back,"  she  said,  with  a  sudden  twitching  in  the 
corners  of  her  mouth ;  "  I  don't  suppose  I  can  say 
'  home '  to  any  spot  on  earth;  but  Doctor  Yernon,  dear 
old  man,  told  me,  after  I  had  given  you  the  things  I 
felt  I  must  put  into  your  hands  with  my  own,  that 
I  must  come  back  to  him,  and  stay  there  until  I 
could  form  my  plans  for  the  future. 

"  After  Mr.  Maury  had  twice  risked  his  life  for  us 
and  come  out  of  that  awful  fire  the  poor,  scarred 
thing  you  sec  him,  I  could  not  let  him  undertake 
this  long  journey  alone. 

"  He  is  at  peace  now  as  far  as  his  friend  is  con 
cerned,  and  when  I've  given  the  things  that  are 
yours  into  your  safe  keeping  I  will  be  ready  to  go 
back  to  Yirginia." 

"  Let  that  rest,  dear  child.  We  will  talk  of  that 
presently.  I  confess  to  feeling  culpable  at  having 


246  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

left  behind  me  a  book  which  was  transmitted  to  me 
with  such  a  significant  message  from  my  dear  uncle. 
Lucy  tells  me  she  gave  it  to  you  after  my  sudden 
departure." 

Lucy  had  brought  from  the  pile  of  luggage  on  a 
sofa  on  one  side  of  the  room  a  heavy  leather  satchel 
while  he  was  talking. 

"  I  have  never  left  it  out  of  my  sight,  nor  per 
mitted  any  one  else  to  handle  it." 

"  Dear  child,  why  should  you  have  been  so  bur 
dened  with  the  responsibility  of  my  affairs  ?  I  wish 
I  could  have  known  and  prevented  it.  How  can  I 
show  my  gratitude,  little  cousin  ?" 

"  We  are  discussing  business,  not  our  emotions,  at 
this  juncture,"  said  Hetty,  with  a  touch  of  asperity 
in  her  voice  she  could  not  entirely  control.  "  This," 
she  laid  a  piece  of  folded  paper  in  his  hand,  "  is  the 
note  that  you  were  expected  to  discover  in  this  old 
book.  I  think  God  directed  my  hands  when  I  dis 
placed  that  old  cover.  The  note  would  have  availed 
you  little  without  the  wallet.  I  had  taken  it  from 
the  armoirc  upstairs  not  three  hours  before  the  fire. 
It  is  full  of  letters.  This  is  yours,  too."  She  placed 
the  locked  tin  box  in  his  hands. 

"As  things  have  turned  out — I  mean,  poor 
mother's  death — the  place  would  have  gone  to  Lem. 
She  left  a  will  to  that  effect,  and  unless  those  letters 
prove  your  superior  right,  as  I  believe  they  will,  you 
are  still  dependent  on  your  own  efforts.  Will  you 
read  them  while  I  am  here,  cousin  ?" 

"  We  will  read  them  together,"  said  Archibald, 
loosening  the  bands  that  were  tied  tightly  about  the 


.1  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  347 

leathern  wallet.  "  We  will  have  no  family  secrets 
from  each  other,  little  cousin."  lie  took  from  the 
envelope  a  double-handful  of  letters,  yellow  now 
with  age.  "Both  Avritten  by  women,  and  educated 
women  at  that." 

"  They  are  the  copies  of  letters  written  by  our 
uncle's  (Eichard  Dabney's)  wife  to  her  false  friend 
Miss  Parmelie  Eose,  and  Miss  Parmelie  Eose's 
answers  to  them,  and  the  letters  of  Lavinia  Ivlur- 
ray  to  our  uncle's  wife." 

u  Our  Uncle  Eichard's  wife  ?" 

"Yes.  But  the  letters  will  make  it  plainer. 
After  you  have  read  them  all  I  will  tell  you  what 
Miss  Eose  told  me." 

For  fully  an  hour  there  was  no  audible  sound  in 
that  sunlit  spare  chamber  in  the  old  Bemish  house 
but  the  soft  sound  of  rustling  paper  mingled  with 
the  agitated  breathing  of  one  of  the  readers. 

As  fast  as  he  finished  a  letter  he  would  pass  it 
over  to  Hetty,  silently.  Sometimes  he  would  read 
them  over  more  than  once.  She  watched  his  strong 
face  with  furtive  eyes.  Its  calmness  was  broken 
up  occasionally  by  violent  emotion.  When  she  had 
to  wait  an  unusually  long  time,  she  found  employment 
for  her  restlessly  nervous  fingers  in  plucking  the 
petals  from  George  Bemish's  roses  and  absently  de 
vouring  them  one  by  one. 

At  last  the  wallet  was  empty,  and  a  pile  of  old 
letters  lay  between  the  cousins  on  the  sofa  where 
they  had  been  sitting  side  by  sido  while  Archibald 
Murray  went  through  the  fiercest  ordeal  of  his  life. 

"  What  do  you  make  of  it  all  f  he  said,  looking 


248  A  8T&AtfQE  PILGRIMAGE. 

at  Hetty  with  serious  eyes.  "  And  now  that  all 
these  dead  people  have  conspired  to  make  me  doubt 
my  own  identity,  what  is  expected  of  me?" 

*#T)o  you  ask  these  grave  questions  of  me,  the 
'  child,'  the  '  little  thing,'  the  '  little  cousin,'  whom 
you  have  only  thought  of  as  — 

"  You  do  not  bear  malice,  Hetty  ?"  he  said,  with 
quick  irritation. 

• "  ]STo !  For  you  1  bear  only  the  deepest,  truest 
affection  a  sister's  heart  could  bear  for  a  brother !" 
she  said,  "'and  I  rejoice  to  be  found  worthy  to  take 
counsel  with  you  at  this  juncture.  What  do  I  make 
of  it  all  ?" 

"  Yes.     These  letters  have  dazed  me." 

"  I  make  of  them  that  you  are  Richard  Dabney's 
son  and  legal  heir — not  his  nephew,  dependent  upon 
chance  for  your  inheritance !  I  make  of  it  that  your 
so-called  mother,  Lavinia  Murray,  combined  with 
your  real  mother  to  introduce  you  into  your  father's 
home,  and  through  his  affection  for  you  she,  your 
much- wronged  mother,  hoped  for  final  reconciliation. 
I  suppose  Aunt  Lavinia's  death  frustrated  the  de 
sign." 

"  But  my  mother  2" 

"  She  is  dead,  too.  Poor  Miss  Rose !  It  was  the 
horror  of  that  death-scene — when  she  had  to  bear 
the  reproaches  of  the  dying  woman  for  her  treach 
ery — that  finally  unhinged  her  mind." 

Then  she  told  him  circumstantially  all  that  had 
occurred  during  her  visit  to  Parmelie  Rose. 

There  was  a  long  silence  between  them  when  she 
got  through. 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  240 

"  There  only  remains  to  examine  the  tin  box,"  she 
said,  taking  from  her  purse  a  small,  flat  key  and 
laying  it  in  his  hand. 

It  fitted  into  the  lock  readily  and  turned  easily. 
As  Archibald  lifted  the  lid  a  faint  perfume  stole 
from  a  covering  of  pink  cotton  that  lay  over  the  con 
tents.  This  removed,  a  blaze  of  jewels  flashed  their 
prismatic  hues  into  their  eyes.  Emeralds,  diamonds, 
pearls,  rubies,  a  royal  collection — worthy  to  be  a 
king's  ransom. 

"  Oh,  beautiful !"  Hetty's  feminine  instincts  came 
to  relieve  the  somber  tint  of  this  passage  into  by 
gone  times. 

"They  are  superb.  I  think  we'll  have  to  lock 
them,  away  for  }Tour  wedding  gift/' 

"  Mine !  Xot  so,  my  cousin.  1  f  report  speaks 
true,  Miss  Theresa  Glen's  stately  beauty  will  look 
all  the  more  ravishing  for  such  adornment." 

She  turned  and  clasped  his  hands  in  both  of  hers. 

"  And  oh,  cousin !  My  dear,  dear  cousin !  it  does 
make  me  glad  to  think  that  I  should  be  the  one  to 
bring  you  such  good  tidings.  That  I,  who  helped 
to  defraud  you  and  drive  you  away  from  your  herit 
age,  should  be  chosen  as  the  one  to  rescue  from 
perishing  all  the  evidences  of  your  inalienable  right 
to  your  home.  Xow  that  you  are  rich  once  more, 
you  can  marry  the  woman  you  love.  You  do  love 
her,  cousin  ?" 

He  drew  her  toward  him  and  kissed  her  tenderly ; 
then  he  got  up  to  go  away  from  her  with  a  face  so 
full  of  trouble  that  her  own  clouded  with  perplexity. 

"  You  have  kever  defrauded  me,  little  cousin    You 


2.50  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

have  done  me  good  and  not  evil,  all  the  days  of 
your  life.  Theresa  Glen's  stately  beauty  will  never 
be  enhanced  by  the  Dabney  family  jewels.  The 
bo.vand  its  contents  are  all  yours." 

He  left  the  room  abruptly,  leaving  her  staring  in 
wonder. 


STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

CROSS-PURPOSES. 

T  OSEPHIXE,  Miss  Theresa  Glen's  maid,  resorted 
|  to  a  great  many  illegal  devices  that  morning  to 
arouse  her  mistress  from  slumber.  Josephine  was 
surcharged  with  news.  So  much  had  happened  over 
yonder,  just  across  the  lake,  at  Doctor  Bemish's, 
which  she  was  extremely  anxious  to  be  the  first  to 
impart.  If  she  permitted  her  mistress  to  leave  the 
room  without  emptying  her  budget  of  information, 
then  the  superlative  pleasure  of  telling  it  all  would 
be  Mrs.  Glen's. 

Josephine  considered  herself  an  authority  on  Be- 
mish  matters,  seeing  that  her  '"beau,"  Abram 
Drake,  to  whom  she  proposed  to  be  joined  in  the 
holy  bonds  of  wedlock  the  coming  Christmas,  was 
the  old  doctor's  personal  attendant,  and  was  rarely 
ever  a.vay  from  him. 

Abram  had  gladly  volunteered  to  row  Doctor 
Murray  over  in  response  to  Mrs.  Glen's  early  sum 
mons  that  morning.  Seeing  Josephine  was  on  the 
other  side,  and  while  the  doctor  had  been  busy  al 
leviating  Mr.  Glen's  colicky  pangs,  Abram  had  been 
pouring  all  the  family  news  into  Josephine's  attent 
ive  ear  as  she  sat  perched  on  the  bo\v  of  the  skiff 
waiting  for  the  doctor's  reappearance.  And  of  a 
truth,  there  had  been  plenty  to  tell  this  time. 


%*&  A  &TRANGB  PILGRIMAGE. 

Every  other  device  failing,  Josephine  men 
daciously  stumbled  over  a  footstool  finally,  and 
brought  down  with  a  crash  the  tall  screen  that  she 
had*  so  carefully  placed,  only  an  hour  before,  be 
tween  the  foot  of  the  bed  and  the  window,  where 
the  late  morning  sunshine  streamed  in  through  the 
slats  of  the  outside  shutters. 

"  What  on  earth  is  the  matter  ?"  Theresa  asked, 
opening  her  eyes  languidly  on  the  scene  of 
Josephine's  tumultuous  service. 

"Nothing  Miss  Thersie,  jus'  nothin'  't  all.  I's  a 
good-for-nothin'  awkerd  nigger,  an'  jes  didn'  see  dat 
footstool ;  wouldn'  a-seed  it  ef  it'd  ben  as  big  as  de 
side  uv  a  house.  I  reckon  you  gwine  git  up  now, 
Miss  Thersie  ?" 

"  What  time  is  it  ?"   Theresa  asked,  indifferently. 

Why  should  she  get  up "(  The  days  were  so  long 
and  empty  and  vapid !  It  was  so  hard  to  know 
what  to  do  with  them.  Fanny  had  Leonard  and 
Paul  and  her  garden  and  her  household  affairs  to 
chatter  about  and  till  the  days  up  with !  Leonard 
had  Fanny  and  Paul  and  the  crops  to  look  after. 
Paul  had  his  own  child's  world,  full  of  real  joys  and 
blissful  imaginings ;  but  what  had  she  ?  She  closed 
her  eyes  heavily  after  asking  that  idle  question  of 
her  maid.  What  mattered  it  what  hour  of  the  day 
it  was  ?  Let  the  hours  come  and  go ;  they  brought 
nothing  to  her.  Xothinsr  but  the  listless  nerform- 

O  O  I 

ance  of  soulless  duties ;  passionate  suppression  of 
longings  that  could  never  be  satisfied ;  self-con 
demning  and  fresh  bruisings  to  her  pride. 

Self -condemning  in  that,  when  Archibald  Murray 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  253 

had  knelt  by  her  side  one  morning  and  called  him 
self  her  lover,  she  had  smiled  on  him  and  let  him  see 
all  too  plainly  into  the  depths  of  her  heart — let 
him  see  that  his  words  gave  her  happiness.  Fresh 
bruisings  for  her  pride  in  that  she  could  not  force 
herself  into  an  unfeigned  indifference  as  to  the 
strange  sequel  to  that  one  moment  of  passionate 
joy.  She  had  tried  so  hard  to  piece  together  the 
fragments  of  that  harrowing  morning  when,  com 
pletely  undone  by  the  nervous  shock  of  her  last 
mesmeric  interview  with  Doctor  Bemish,  she  had 
spent  so  many  hours  alternating  between  conscious 
ness  and  unconsciousness. 

She  recalled  one  blissful  moment  of  consciousness 
that  had  showed  her  Archibald  Murray  kneeling 
close  by  her  side,  his  eyes  looking  lovingly  into  hers, 
his  voice  calling  her  name  in  tones  of  the  deepest 
tenderness.  Ah !  if  she  could  have  passed  away  for 
ever  in  that  moment ! 

She  had  passed  away  temporarily — lapsed  once 
more  into  unconsciousness,  only  to  come  back  to  find 
Archibald  Murray  again  by  her  side,  discussing  her 
physical  condition  with  her  sister-in-law  in  a 
strangely  matter-of-fact  voice,  leaving  directions  for 
the  administering  of  certain  bitter  doses,  administer 
ing  the  bitterest  of  all  himself  when  he  told  her,  in 
that  curiously  constrained  voice,  that  she  needed 
but  to  obey  the  directions  he  had  left  with  her 
sister  in  order  to  be  soon  quite  herself,  and  then  had 
taken  formal  leave  of  her ! 

She  remembered  wondering  why  he  had  selected 
that  time  for  his  sudden  removal  into  the  village  of 


254  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

Ha \vkspoint.  There  could  be  but  one  solution  to  it. 
lie  had  repented  him  of  that  impulsive  confession ! 
His  words  of  tenderness  had  meant  nothing.  lie 
warned  her  to  consider  them  unsaid  by  his  sudden 
and  complete  removal  from  her  proximity.  Since 
then  he  had  only  come  to  Glencove  on  professional 
business.  Ah  !  well,  she  could  match  pride  against 
pride  in  a  contest  with  Lucifer  himself,  if  need  be ! 

Since  then,  though,  the  world  had  seemed  very 
empty  and  the  days  dragged  drearily.  Why  should 
she  lengthen  them  by  rising  with  the  thrifty  alert 
ness  of  a  woman  who  had  happy  household  cares 
and  pleasing  domestic  anxieties  to  spur  her  through 
the  long  sunlit  hours  ? 

Josephine,  in  a  spasm  of  remorse  for  her  OAVH 
duplicity,  had  quietly  seated  herself  near  the  win 
dow  with  her  knitting,  when  her  mistress  asked 
again  : 

"  What  time  is  it,  Josephine  ?" 

The  maid  careened  her  turbaned  head  sufficiently 
to  one  side  to  get  a  view  of  the  mantel  clock  : 

"By  dis  clock,"  she  said,  oracularly,  ''tain't  but 
half-pas'  nine  ;  but  I  sholy  think  you  is  slow,  for  I 
know  it  mus'  a-ben  mo'n  an  hour  sence  Abram  an' 
de  doctor  done  lef ,  an'  I  yhere  de  doctor  tell  Miss 
Fanny  he  couldn'  wait  no  longer,  kase  lies  cousin 
would  be  lookin'  for  him  anxious,  an'  he  lef  word 
for  her  he'd  be  back  to  tek  brekfis'  wid  her,  lessen 
Mars'  Glen  were  ve'y  sick,  which  he  didn'  have 
nothin'  but  cramps  from  too  much  watermillion, 
honey." 

Josephine   had    composed   this   skillful   prologue 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  355 

while  impatiently  waiting  for  the  moment  of  its 
delivery.  She  flattered  herself  that  she  had  art 
fully  condensed  therein  sufficient  material  to  pique 
even  her  Miss  Thersie's  languid  curiosity  into  active 
operation.  She  was  not  disappointed.  Theresa 
raised  herself  on  one  elbow  and  asked  quickly : 

';  Is  my  brother  ill  fc" 

u  Xothing  but  cramps  from  watermilb'on,  hone}'. 
You  know  Mars'  Glen  is  got  a  weakness  that  way, 
but  the  doctor  gin  him.  the  word  wid  the  bark  on  it 
this  time.  He  say  p'intedly  Mars'  Glen's  got  to  lef 
'em  alone." 

"  What  doctor  ?" 

"  Doctor  Murray  in  co'se,"  said  Josephine,  placing 
dressing-slippers  and  gown  suggestively  in  front  of 
the  young  lady. 

"  "What  cousin  are  you  talking  about,  Josephine  ?" 
her  mistress  asked,  looking  at  her  confusedly,  while 
she  mechanically  permitted  herself  to  be  invested  in 
gown  and  slippers. 

"  Doctor  Murray's  cousin.  Abram  say  he  ain't 
seen  her  yet,  but  he  savs  the  old  colored  lady  which 

J  „  */ 

come  from  Virginia  wid  her  and  Mars'  Hugh  Maury 
talk  lak  she  were  a  none  such.  They  all  got  yhere 
late  las'  night,  Abram  say,  an'  the  young  lady  warn't 
up  w'en  he  ro\v  de  doctor  over  here." 

The  perplexed  look  had  been  deepening  on  her 
mistress'  face  all  this  time,  and  Josephine's  moment 
of  triumph  had  come  : 

"  '  Hugh  Maury  ?'  '  All  got  here  last  night !' 
Who  are  'all,'  Josephine?  "What  are  you  talking 
about  ?" 


25G  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

"  TS  talking 'bout  Doctor  Murray's  cousin.  Abram 
say  lie  sorter  get  her,  from  the  way  the  old  colored 
lady  talk,  that  her  an'  the  doctor  is  ben  ol'  sweet 
hearts,  an'  now  that  her  ma  is  dead,  an"*fcan't  stan' 
betwix  'em  no  longer,  they  gwine  git  married  right 
off." 

"  Yes,"  said  Theresa,  turning  very  white  and  sink 
ing  limply  into  an  arm-chair  by  the  dressing-table. 
"  I  see,  I  see !"  She  laughed  mirthlessly.  "  But 
who  do  you  mean  by  '  all  ?' " 

"  Her,  and  Mars'  George  Bemish,  and  Mars'  Hugh 
Maury,  and  the  ol'  colored  lady.  Abram  say  they 
all  come  together  las'  night  from  somewhar,  he  ain't 
quite  clar  whar ;  an'  Abram  say  from  the  ve'y  mo 
ment  Mars'  George  Bemish  put  hes  head  inside  the 
ol'  man's  bed-room  and  say,  'Father,  I  come  hon:e 
to  stay  wid  you,  Hugh's  made  it  all  right !'  the  oi' 
gentleman  begin  t'  men'.  Abram  say  Doctor  Mur 
ray  thought  he  were  goin'  to  die  las'  night,  but  now 
he  say  he's  all  right." 

Josephine  had  nothing  to  complain  of  in  her  list 
ener.  Theresa  submitted  to  be  dressed  with  the 
passivity  of  a  doll  stuifed  with  sawdust,  and  while 
Josephine  combed,  brushed  and  curled  her  pretty 
hair,  buttoned  her  boots,  and  tied  the  long  sash- 
ends  of  her  morning-wrapper  about  her  slim  waist, 
she  sat  in  a  sort  of  trance,  trying  to  elucidate  the 
strange  story  of  these  strange  happenings  over  yon 
der  at  Doctor  Bemish's. 

She  was  quite  dressed  at  last,  but  nervelessly  dis 
inclined  to  leave  her  room  in  quest  of  breakfast. 

"  Bring  me  a  cup  of  coffee  here,"  she  said,  petu 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  357 

lantly,    twitching   the   ribbons   out  of    Josephine's 
clinging  fingers.     "  I  don't  want  any  breakfast." 

She  rested  her  head  against  the  tall  back  of  her 
chair  and  closed  her  eyes.  She  was  enraged  with 
herself  to  feel  that  hot,  scalding  tears  were  rising 
beneath  their  lids. 

"  What  a  weakling  I  am  become  I"  she  said,  spring 
ing  passionately  to  her  feet  as  the  door  closed  on 
Josephine's  receding  form.  "  What  difference  does 
it  make  to  me  if  a  thousand  cousins  come  to  claim 
him  ?" 

Mrs.  Glen's  bright  face  was  suddenly  thrust 
through  the  shutters  of  the  window  that  opened  on 
the  gallery.  Her  face  was  full  of  importance  this 
morning. 

"  Do  come  out  of  this  dungeon,  Thersie.  I  am 
dying  to  tell  you  the  news.  Would  have  waked 
you  up  two  hours  ago,  but  Josephine  says  you  were 
very  restless  last  night." 

"  I  suspect  that  Josephine  had  an  object  in  keep 
ing  you  at  bay,"  Theresa  answered,  with  her  gayest 
laugh.  "She  wanted  to  be  the  iirst  to  tell  the  won 
derful  tidings  that  Doctor  Murray's  pretty  cousin 
has  come  all  the  way  from  Virginia,  with  her  col 
ored  mammy,  to  consummate  their  long  engagement, 
and  that  George  Bemish  and  Hugh  Maury  have 
come  back  together  to  straighten  out  that  horrid 
affair  of  Adrien  Michelet.  You  see  I  know  it  all."' 

u  A  good  deal  more  than  I  do,"  said  Mrs.  Glen, 
looking  perplexedly  into  the  beautiful  flushed  faca 
of  the  girl  who  had  just  treated  a  matter  which  had 
always  been  spoken  of  in  the  family  circle  with 


258  -A-  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

bated  breath  with  such  shocking  flippancy. 
tor  Murray  told  me  that  a  young  cousin  of  his  had 
arrived,  most  unexpectedly  to  him,  last  night,  bring 
ing  with  her  important  family  papers  which  she  was 
afraid  to  intrust  to  the  mail." 

Theresa;  laughed  skeptically. 

"  He  really  seemed  worried  how  to  dispose  of  her. 
She  can't  stay  over  at  Doctor  Bemislr  s  with  a  house 
ful  of  men,  you  know." 

"  I  imagine  he  won't  be  at  a  loss  long.  But  about 
the  others — George  Bemish  and  Hugh  Maury.  I 
knew  they  would  come  back  together  some  time,  if 
both  of  them  were  alive." 

"  You  knew  it  and  never  told  even  your  brother 
or  me  ?" 

"  Yes.  I  knew  that  Hugh  Maury  had  gone  on  a 
pilgrimage  in  search  of  the  friend  he  had  wronged — 
knew  that  his  only  chance  of  peace  on  earth  lay  in 
finding  George  Bemish.  I  am  not  taken  unawares 
by  that.  I  was  not  called  on  to  criminate  the  man 
who  had  struck  that  rash  blow  for  my  sake,  was  I  ?" 

"  But  the  strangest  part  of  the  whole  story  you 
don't  know — you  can't  know  ;  for  Doctor  Murray 
told  it  to  Leonard  and  me  with  closed  doors.  Hugh 
Maury  has  come  home  a  hero  and  a  martyr !" 

"In  the  sight  of  man,  perhaps;  in  the  sight  of 
God  a  murderer,  once  and  forever !"  Theresa  said, 
gravely. 

Such  a  deathly  pallor  spread  over  her  tortured 
face  that  Mrs.  Glen  flung  wide  open  the  long  shut 
ters  and  drew  her  through  them  out  into  the 
fresher  air  of  the  gallery. 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  359 

"  Doctor  Murray  asked  me  to  tell  you  all  about 
this  affair,  Tliersie,  as  soon  as  you  awoke.  He  said 
lie  thought  you  would  be  glad  to  know  that  George 
Bemish  was  once  more  at  home  with  his  father, 
freed  from  every  suspicion.  You  are  trembling.  I 
will  tell  you  the  rest  while  you  eat  your  breakfast." 

She  led  the  trembling  girl  into  the  breakfast- room, 
and  after  seeing  her  well  supplied  with  food,  with 
which  she  toyed  mechanically,  Mrs.  Glen  resumed  : 

"  Doctor  Murray  says  that  Doctor  Bemish  be^s  to 

t/  */  O 

see  you  as  soon  as  possible,  lie  says  George  looks 
'  thin  and  rather  rough,'  was  his  expression,  but  that 
he  is  undoubtedly  one  of  the  handsomest  and  most 
winning  young  fellows  he  ever  met." 

"Did  Doctor  Murray  row  over  here  early  this 
morning  just  to  chant  the  praises  of  the  returned 
prodigal?"  Theresa  asked,  sharply. 

UI  don't  think  he  is  the  prodigal  at  all,"  Mrs. 
Glen  answered,  quietly  ignoring  the  sharpness.  "  He 
says  poor  Hugh  Maury  is  an  absolute  wreck — walks 
on  crutches  and  has  lost  the  use  of  both  eyes.  It 
seems  he  has  been  teaching  in  the  young  lady's 
family,  and  their  house  caught  on  lire  and  he  heroic 
ally  risked  his  life  by  rushing  into  the  burning  house 
where  some  one  told  him  an  eld  negro  woman  was 
confined.  It  was  this  very  old  woman,  too,  who  has 
come  here  with  him  and  Doctor  Murray's  cousin. 
They  brought  him  home — he  was  too  helpless  to 
travel  alone.  Tin;  old  darky  naturally  adores  him." 

uTlio  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard  !  'Perhaps," 
Theresa  said,  in  a  voice  of  pure  pity,  "God  will 
judge  him  more  leniently  than  man  can,  and  will 


260  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

call  his  expiation  complete.  It  was  a  mad,  rash, 
foolish  thing  that  he  did,  and  he  wrapped  my  life  in 
the  gloom  of  it.  Has  he  done  well  in  coming  back 
here  2" 

"  He  came  back  here  to  clear  George  Bemish's 
name  from  suspicion.  He  was  compelled  to  give  up 
his  search  for  him,  in  his  maimed  condition.  His 
intention  now  is  to  inform  the  authorities  of  the 
entire  transaction.  He  says  if  they  see  fit  to  arrest, 
imprison,  try  and  execute  the  remnant  of  Hugh 
Maury  which  he  has  brought  back  here,  he  shall 
make  no  opposition.  He  says  that  when  he  heard 
Adrien  Michelet's  scoffing  laugh  following  him  down 
the  road  where  you  and  he  were  driving,  he  sprang 
from  the  buggy  meaning  only  to  — 

Theresa  raised  her  hand  imploringly  : 

"  For  God's  sake  spare  me !  Hugh  Maury  has 
shown  depths  of  nobility  I  did  not  believe  him  ca 
pable  of.  He  has  shielded  me  at  his  own  expense 
long  enough !  Tell  my  brother,  Fanny  (I  cannot 
talk  of  this  again),  that  if  it  comes  to  a  question  of  a 
public  trial  for  the  killing  of  Adrien  Michelet,  to  let 
me  know.  Then,  but  not  before  then,  I  will  tell  the 
entire  provocation  to  that  fearful  deed.  No  jury  on 
earth  would  harm  a  hair  of  Hugh  Maury's  head 
after  hearing  my  statement.'' 

"  Dear  child  !  poor,  poor  Thersie !  how  much  you 
have  endured,  writh  no  one  to  help  you,"  said  Mrs. 
Glen,  weaving  her  arms  caressingly  about  her  sister- 
in-lawr's  neck.  "  I  never  knew  before  how  — 

"  Don't  fall  into  any  more  mistakes,  Fanny,"  Miss 
Glen  said,  firmly ;  "  don't  imagine  that  that  awful 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  261 

affair  has  broken  my  heart.  It  shocked  me  im 
measurably,  and  I  think  if  I  had  loved  Hugh  Maury 
very  much  it  would  have  killed  me. 

"  I  shall  never  know  why  I  had  promised  to  marry 
him.  Poor  man  !  In  his  helpless  condition,  who  will 
care  for  him  ?  No  mother,  no  sister !" 

"  The  Bemishes  !  Depend  upon  that.  He  will  never 
want  for  friends.  Doctor  Murray  says  Miss  Ogden 
is  devoted  to  him.  He  says  Hugh  saved  her  life 
once  when  she  was  skating  and  went  through  the  ice." 

Mrs  Glen  here  pulled  out  her  watch. 

"  By  the  way,  Thersie,  I  promised  Doctor  Murray 
I  would  come  over  after  dinner  and  see  if  Miss 
Ogden  would  not  come  here  to  stay  for  the  few  days 
she  will  be  compelled  to  wait  for  a  packet.  I  can't 
leave  a  young  girl  in  a  house  full  of  stupid  men,  you 
know.  And,  besides,  I  want  to  see  the  others." 

"  Did  Doctor  Murray  ask  this  if"  Theresa  asked. 

"Xo.  Stupidly  enough  he  did  not  seem  to  have 
seen  any  impropriety  in  her  staying  at  Doctor 
Bemish's." 

Theresa  arose  from  the  table  unsteadily  and  held  by 
the  back  of  her  chair,  as  she  said  : 

"  When  you  are  ready  to  go  for  Miss  Ogden,  come 
for  me,  Fanny.  I  will  go  with  you." 

"  Do  you  think  you  can  stand  it,  dear  ?" 

"  Stand  what  ?"  she  asked,  haughtily. 

"  The  trip,"  Mrs.  Glen  answered,  looking  at  her 
pale  face  and  twitching  limbs  in  anxious  concern. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  can  stand  the  trip,"  Theresa  said  with 
a  hysterical  laugh ;  "  I  should  think  by  this  time  you 
had  discovered  I  can  stand  anything." 


202  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE   MAJESTY    OF   THE    LAW. 

MRS.  GLEX  did  not  find  it  such  a  simple  mat 
ter  to  fulfill  her  promise  to  Archibald  Mur 
ray  about  coming  across  the  lake  to  see  Hetty  that 
afternoon.  There  were  various  impediments  in  the 
way  when  she  came  to  make  her  arrangements, 
chief  among  them  being  the  lack  of  a  conveyance. 

Mr.  Glen,  miraculously  relieved  of  his  physical 
discomfort  by  hearing  of  the  wondrous  happen 
ings  over  at  Doctor  Bemish's  the  night  just  gone, 
had  hurried  off  alone  before  dinner  to  see  George 
Bemish  and  to  consult  with  the  other  men  about 
Hugh  Maury's  situation. 

He  had  always  been  excessively  fond  of  George, 
and  was  correspondingly  rejoiced  over  the  happy 
turn  events  had  taken  for  him.  Moreover,  Murray 
had  engaged  him,  as  one  of  the  leading  and  most 
influential  citizens  in  the  parish,  to  go  with  him  into 
Hawkspoint  that  morning  to  make  a  statement  con 
cerning  Hugh  Maury,  preparatory  to  the  voluntary 
surrender  of  himself,  which  the  returned  pilgrim  was 
resolved  upon. 

Truth  to  tell,  the  movements  of  his  women-folks 
did  not  concern  him  at  all  that  morning,  there  was 
matter  of  so  much  graver  import  on  hand. 

k'  Of  course  Leonard  had  to  take  the  onlv  decent 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  263 

skiff  in  the  boat-house,"  Mrs.  Glen  said  tartl}r,  when 
she  came  to  report  to  Theresa  that  they  "would 
have  to  wait  for  the  old  boat  to  be  caulked." 

"Did  brother  know  you  had  any  intention  of 
going  over  at  all*"  Theresa  asked,  with  that  fine 
sense  of  justice  which  never  forsook  her. 

"  No ;  but  men  are  so  selfish  that  if  he  had  it 
wouldn't  have  made  a  particle  of  difference,"  Mrs. 
Glen  answered,  logically.  "  I  will  call  you  as  soon 
as  there  is  any  sign  of  Tim's  being  ready.  You 
know  it  takes  him  a  year  to  do  what  any  one  else 
could  do  in  an  hour." 

"Poor  Timothy!  Evidently  my  little  sister  is 
consumed  with  impatience  to  see  some  one  on  the 
other  side  of  the  lake.  Is  it  the  returned  native  or 
the  Doctor's  pretty  cousin?" 

Theresa  turned  from  the  mirror  where  she  had 
been  tying  the  soft  mull  strings  of  her  white  straw 
hat  under  her  smooth  chin  with  unusual  delibera 
tion  for  her.  She  was  in  a  state  of  complete  and 
dainty  readiness  for  the  start.  Mrs.  Glen  looked 
her  over  from  head  to  foot  in  admiring  silence  before 
bursting  forth,  inconsequently : 

"Thersie,  you  are  perfect,  this  morning!  Just 
superb !  Why  don't  you  do  it  oftener  ?" 

"  Do  what  oftener  ?"  Theresa  asked,  composedly, 
shaking  the  folds  out  of  a  lace-trimmed  parasol 
which  had  been  buttoned  and  furled  for  many  a  day. 

"  Fix  yourself  up  that  way." 

"  Do  I  look  fixed  up  ?  Horrors !"  She  arched  her 
eyebrows  comically  in  an  assumption  of  distress. 
"Surely  a  white  nun's  veiling  that  has  done  service 


2G4  A  STRAXGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

for  two  seasons,  an  old  straw  hat  trimmc:!  with 
mull  muslin,  and  a  fresh  bunch  of  violets  do  not  com 
prise  a  very  elaborate  get-up." 

'•  I  don't  know  what  it  is.  It  must  be  your  high 
color,  then,  or  your  eyes — gracious,  how  they  do 

sparkle ! — or  that Thank  goodness,  there's  Tim 

bawling  for  us  now.  Don't  forget  your  parasol! 
Hadn't  we  better  take  an  umbrella,  sc  we  can  both 
sit  behind  it  ?  The  setting  sun  will  be  right  in  our 
eyes  all  the  way  over." 

"Xo,"  Theresa  said,  curtly.  "This  parasol  will 
answer  for  both." 

She  did  not  propose  to  mar  the  effect  of  her  ar 
tistic  design  by  supporting  a  hideous  black  alpaca 
umbrella  during  the  two  miles  of  water-travel  they 
had  before  them. 

Yes.  "  design !"  The  last  time  she  had  been  in  a 
boat  alone  with  Archibald  Murray — oh.  how  long 
ago  it  seemed  now — he  had  daringly  criticised  her 
cool,  fresh  costume,  and  his  eyes  had  said  more  than 
his  words  that  day.  She  wanted  him  to  see  that- 
even  though  she  knew  he  was  the  pledged  lover  of 
this  girl  Avhom  she  was  going  over  to  greet  gra 
ciously,  her  own  adornment  was  a  matter  of  fastidi 
ous  import  still.  He  could  scarcely  think,  after  this 
afternoon,  that  his  words  or  glances  carried  any 
Aveight  with  them.  She  was  glad  of  her  beauty  to 
day. 

As  Mrs.  Glen  rushed  tumultuously  out  of  the 
room  at  Timothy's  first  "Halloo!*'  Theresa  deliber 
ately  turned  to  take  one  more  look  at  herself  in  the 
long  mirror.  She  smiled  at  her  majestic  reflection. 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  265 

"  I  am  glad  my  cheeks  are  burning,"  she  said,  lay 
ing  the  back  of  her  cool  white  hand  against  them, 
one  after  the  other;  "glad  that  my  eyes  have 
caught  fire,  too.  I  donrt  think  I  look  like  a  woman 
who  has  been  stabbed  to  the  heart  by  a  child's 
hand  !" 

She  rearranged  the  violets  in  her  belt  and  joined 
Mrs.  Glen,  who  was  already  seated  in  the  skiff,  with 
a  face  studiously  divested  of  all  traces  of  the  fierce 
storm  that  had  swept  her  soul  since  her  late  a  waken 
ing  that  morning.  She  was  serenely  handsome  that 
afternoon. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  lake,  Hugh  Maury,  rest 
ing  his  crutches  against  the  thorny  trunk  of  a 
honey-locust  which  grew  out  upon  the  bank  quite  a 
distance  above  the  doctor's  front  gate,  was  sitting 
on  a  fallen  log  Avith  his  hands  clasped  before  him 
and  his  head  drooped  forward — a  listless  attitude 
which  had  become  common  with  him  since  losing 
the  use  of  his  eyes. 

Hetty  was  sitting  beside  him  on  the  log.  lie  had 
come  to  her  room-door  an  hour  or  two  before  with 
a  pathetic  plea. 

"  The  sun  is  setting,  Miss  Hetty,"  he  had  said, 
"  and  I  know  just  how  the  dear  old  lake  used  to  look 
at  this  time  of  the  day ;  yet  I  think  I  should  like  to 
see  it  once  more.  You  have  been  eyes  for  me,  dear 
child,  for  months  now.  I  want  you  to  walk  a  bit 
up  the  lake  bank  with  me.  to  the  old  honey -locust.  I 
can  lead  you  straight  to  it  with  these  poor,  sight 
less  eyes  of  mine.  I  want  to  know  just  how  it  all 
looks,  on  this  side  and  on  the  other.  If  there  have 


«>G6  A  STRANGK  PILGttlMAGti. 

been  any  changes  I  can  detect  them  in  your  descrip 
tion.  I  should  like  to  take  a  photograph  of  it  all 
away  in  my  heart.  "Will  you  come  with  me?" 

There  were  tears  in  her  eyes  Avlien  she  had  opened 
the  door  to  him.  She  would  not  trust  her  voice 
with  anything  more  than  a  prompt  "certainly"  just 
then. 

It  had  been  such  a  trying,  bewildering  sort  of  day 
to  her. 

She  had  thrown  her  black  veil  over  her  head  with 
out  other  covering  and  joined  him  at  once.  It  was 
lie  who  had  piloted  her  through  the  long  privet- 
hedging  that  led  by  the  side  of  the  house  to  a  gate, 
going  directly  on  to  the  lake.  It  was  he  who  led 
the  way,  slowly  and  tediously  on  his  clumsy 
crutches,  along  the  grassy,  sloping  banks  to  where 
the  spreading  branches  of  the  thorn  offered  them 
shelter  from  the  hot  rays  of  the  slanting  sunshine 
and  the  fallen  log  invited  them  to  rest.  Then  she 
asked,  taking  his  crutches  away  from  him  and  seat 
ing  him  with  that  matter-of-course  sisterliness 
which  had  come  to  her  naturally  since  his  mishap : 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  wanting  to  take  a  photo 
graph  away  in  your  heart,  Mr.  Maury  ?  I  thought 
your  pilgrimage  ended  here,  and  that  here  you 
would  cast  anchor." 

"  Not  yet,  dear  child,  not  yet !" 

How  could  he  tell  her  that  his  pilgrimage  would 
lead  him  on  the  morrow  to  the  doors  of  the  jail  he 
had  so  long  evaded  ?  How  could  he  tell  her  that  the 
majesty  of  the  law  might  consign  him  to  a  sadder 
anchorage  than  her  pure  fancy  could  even  picture  ? 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  2o? 

She  only  knew  his  past  in  part — knew  that  he  had 
wronged  his  friend  in  some  way,  hut  had  now  re 
stored  him  to  homo  and  honor.  l>ut  she  did  not 
know  that  in  doing-  this  he  had  calmly  counted  the 
cost  and  was  ready  to  abide  by  the  decision  of  his 
peers. 

lie  wished  she  might  never  know  this  last  sad 
dest,  darkest  chapter  in  his  whole  career. 

"  I  don't  think — I  should  not  think,"  said  Hetty, 
speaking  once  more,  hesitatingly,  "that  you  would 
be  permitted  to  go  away  by  yourself.  Oh,  if  only  I 
had  a  home  to  take  you  to — you,  who  risked  so  much 
for  me  and  mine — you  should  never,  never,  never 
leave  it !  But  think  of  it !  "What  a  leaf  upon  the 
current  I  am !  Mamma  gone,  the  boys  scattered, 
my  cousin—  She  stopped.  There  were  tears 

in  her  eyes.  "Xo  one  but  Aunt  Lucy  left  to 
me." 

"  There,  there,  poor,  tired  little  soul !  To  think 
that  I  should  whine  like  a  whipped  spaniel  in  your 
presence,"  said  Hugh,  soothingly.  "  Come,  tell  me 
what  you  see,  Hetty — tell  me  all  that  you  see.  I 
could  not  ask  any  one  else  to  do  me  the  service — 
they  would  have  taken  me  for  a  dotard  Picture 
it  for  me,  child — earth,  water  and  sky,  just  as  they 
lie  stretched  out  before  you  now." 

Hetty  turned  her  eyes  away  from  the  drawn  and 
haggard  features  of  the  poor  wreck  by  her  side  and 
began  in  a  soft,  sweet  monotone  : 

"  I  see  a  beautiful  lake,"  she  said,  "  lying  bathed 
in  the  brightest  sunshine.  The  sun  is  setting  in  a 
bank  of  rose-colored  clouds,  and  the  water,  as  far  as 


5>C8  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

the  eve  can  reach,  lies  rose-red  under  the  crimsoned 

sky." 

"  I  have  seen  it  juct  that  way  so  often,  so  often  !" 
Hugh  murmured,  softly.  ''  Go  or  ;  you  describe  it 
prettily.'' 

"  And  I  see  across  the  lake,  on  the  other  side, 
broad  fields  of  brown  corn-tassels  and  bushy  cotton- 
plants.  I  can  see  the  negroes  moving  along  the 
green  lanes  of  the  cotton  with  hoes  and  plows. 
They  are  singing,  at  their  work,  happy,  wild  bits  of 
songs  - 

"  Yes,  I  hear  them— I  hear  them  !  That  is  Glen- 
cove  across  there.  It  stretches  all  along  the  lake- 
front.  There  is  a  tall  orange-hedging  at  one  part 
of  it — just  down  that  way." 

"Yes — down  toward  the  lower  end,  where  the 
trees  and  the  shrubs  grow  thick  behind  a  gleaming 
white  fence,  and  "where  the  red-brick  chimney,  on 
the  outside  of  the  white  house,  can  just  be  seen 
through  the  green  trees." 

"  Yes,  yes.     That  is  Glencove." 

"  Glencove  ?"  there  was  a  nervous  catch  in  the 
young  girl's  voice.  "  Is  that  where  my  cousin's — 
where  — 

"  That  is  where  Miss  Theresa  Glen  lives,"  said 
Hugh  Maury,  with  no  perceptible  tremor  in  his 
voice.  For  him,  there  would  be  no  marrying  nor 
giving  in  marriage  in  this  world.  He  did  not  even 
mean  that  Theresa  should  look  upon  his  maimed  and 
altered  form.  For  him,  women's  vows  and  women's 
caresses  were  things  less  attainable  than  the  celestial 
heights.  He  wondered  at  his  own  impassive  condi- 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  269 

tion.  He  could  only  account  for  it  on  the  score  of 
his  absolute  and  single-hearted  devotion  to  one  idea 
for  the  past  four  years.  There  had  been  no  room  in 
his  soul  for  any  other  desire  than  to  atone  for  his 
crime  by  exculpating  George  Bemish. 

"  She  whom  you  loved  once  ?"  said  Hetty,  with 
gentle  boldness. 

"  Yes,  once ;  but  all  that  happened  centuries  ago, 
my  child.  In  front  of  the  white  house  with  the 
brick  chimney  is " 

"  Come,  don't  spoil  our  photograph  !" 

"  A  little  boat-house,  and  lily-pads  are  all  around 
about  it.  It  has  a  gayly-painted  roof — the  boat- 
house,  I  mean." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know,  I  know." 

"  On  this  side  of  the  lake,"  Hetty  continued,  turn 
ing  her  eyes  away  from  tho  home  of  Theresa  Glen, 
"  I  see  a  skiff  coming  rapidly  in  this  direction. 
The  willows  along  the  bank  must  have  been  hiding 
it.  It  has  three  people  in  it.  The  oarsman  is  a 
black  man,  and — wait ;  they've  gone  behind  another 
clump  of  those  water-willows ;  I  think  they  are 
afraid  of  the  hot  sun — the  passengers  are  two  ladies. 
They  have  a  big  white  parasol  held  between  us  and 
them.  I  can  only  see  that  one  of  them  has  on  a 
dark  blue  dress,  and  the  other  a  white  one." 

The  sound  of  oars  came  closer.  Tim  was  hugging 
the  bank  closely  in  order  to  give  his  passengers  tho 
full  benefit  of  the  shade  cast  by  the  trees  on  the  bank. 
As  the  cooler  shadows  fell  across  the  bow  of  their 
boat,  Miss  Glen  shifted  the  parasol  and  let  its  handle 
rest  upon  her  shoulder.  Its  pink  silk  lining  formed 


270  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

an  effective  background  to  her  white  straw  hat  and 
the  lovely  face  it  framed.  The  boat  glided  close 
enough  for  Hetty  to  have  thrown  her  handkerchief 
into  the  lap  of  the  beautiful  woman,  who,  in  her 
turn,  was  scanning  the  sweet  pale  face  under  the 
clinging  black  veil  with  burning  eyes. 

The  lessening  sound  of  the  oars  caught  Hugh 
Alaury's  strained  ear. 

"  They  have  passed  !"  he  said,  quickly. 

"  Yes  !''  There  was  again  that  catch  in  Hetty's 
voice. 

"  Who  ?    What  >     AVhat  was  it,  Hetty  ?" 

"  A  vision  of  fair  women  !"  said  Hetty,  dreamily. 
"Oh!  how  beautiful  she  is.  How  handsome  the 
other  one  is,  too.  The  younger  one  is  radiant !" 

"  Describe  them.1" 

"  The  one — the  one  who  wore  the  dark  blue  dress 
had  a  pretty  round  waist,  and  shining  black  hair,  and 
bright,  bright  eyes.  She  was  dark,  and  looked  as  if 
she  might  be  one  o£  those  brisk  and  quick  women  in 
all  her  ways,  and  so  neat  that  everybody  around  her 
has  to  be,  too.  Oh,  the  very  tie  of  her  bonnet- 
strings  showed  that ;  but  the  other  — 

"Yes— the— other - 

"  She  was  tall  and  stately,  and  her  hair  was  like 
fine-spun  gold  ;  and  her  eyes — such  wonderful  eyes 
I  don't  know  how  to  tell  you  about  them  ;  violet, 
perhaps — seemed  to  look  one  through  and  through  ! 
She  was  dressed  all  in  pure  white,  and  she  wore 
a  big  bunch  of  purple  violets  in  her  belt  - 

"  I  caught  their  breath !  Yes,  their  sweetness  is 
in  the  air  yet.  She  always  loved  the  violets  so." 


.  I  STB  A  NGE  PIL  GRIM  A  GE.  2  T 1 

"  And  that  is  —     "  Hetty  asked,  eagerly. 

''  That  is  Miss  Theresa  Glen,"  said  Ilugh  Maury, 
slowly  and  distinctly.  "  A  very  beautiful  woman, 
but — she  has  her  sting.  She  can  be  merciless." 

A  long  silence  fell  between  them.  Hugh's  interest 
in  the  landscape  had  waned.  Hetty's  skill  as  a 
word-painter  had  failed  her.  The  sound  of  receding 
oars  died  away  entirely. 

The  vision  of  fair  women  had  passed. 

In  the  boat  Mrs.  Glen  was  saying  to  her  sister-in- 
law,  in  a  voice  of  intense  pity  : 

"  Did  you  see  him,  Thersie  ?  Did  you  see  those 
crutches  leaning  against  the  tree  '*  Poor,  poor  fel 
low  !  what  a  wreck  he  is.  It  must  be  Hugh  Maury." 

'"•  I  was  not  looking  at  the  man.  I  don't  think  it 
occurred  to  me  that  Mr.  Maury  would  be  out  on  the 
bank,  either.  I  was  looking  at  the  young  lady.  I 
think  you  must  be  mistaken  about  her  companion." 

"•  I  may  be  mistaken.  I  hope  I  am,"  Mrs.  Glen 
said,  hurriedly.  "  I  looked  at  the  girl,  too,  but  I 
could  not  see  anything  but  a  pair  of  big  eyes  under 
a  black  veil." 

"  JJut  I  imagine  there  is  a  good  deal  more  to  the 
young  lady  than  we  have  seen  yet,"  said  Theresa, 
composedly. 

But  of  a  sudden  her  assumed  composure  was 
violently  broken  up,  and  she  clutched  Mrs.  Glen's 
arm  in  both  her  hands  while  she  almost  hissed  into 
her  ears : 

"Why  did  he  come  back  here*  What  did  he 
mean  by  coming  back  here  to  make  me  live  the  hor 
ror  of  that  time  over  once  more  (  Why  did  you  not 


272  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

tell  me  he  was  here,  here  in  this  very  house  ?  How 
should  I  know  it  ?  "Why  did  you  let  me  come  ( 
Look — do  you  see  that  wagon  coming  up  the  road  C 

Mrs.  Glen  did  look.  A  wagonette  drawn  by  two 
horses  was  whirling  through  the  dusty  lane  that  lay 
between  Doctor  Bemish's  house  and  his  stables. 
There  were  two  men  sitting  in  it — men  whom  the 
ladies  from  Glencove  knew  only  b}T  sight. 

Timothy,  standing  up  to  cast  the  chain  of  his 
boat  about  the  peg  driven  into  the  bank,  gasped  out 
in  unreasoning  terror : 

"  De  Shurff,  Mr.  Miles  an'  hes  deputy !  Bless  de 
lam',  who  he  arter  ?" 

The  wagon  halted  in  the  lane  but  a  second. 

The  women  in  the  skiff  saw  the  men  in  the  wagon 
lean  over  the  side  of  the  vehicle  and  ask  a  question 
of  a  negro  who  had  just  opened  the  gate  to  the 
mule-lot.  The  negro  raised  his  hand  and  pointed 
toward  the  honey-locust.  The  wagon  drove  off  rap 
idly  in  that  direction. 

"  Fool,  fool,  rash  fool,  to  come  back !"  Mrs.  Glen 
cried,  wringing  her  hands  in  despair.  "  And  the 
men !  Where  are  they — George,  and  the  doctor, 
and  Leonard?  I  thought  they  were  to  prevent 
this  ?" 

No  answer  came  from  the  quiet  house  ;  no  answer 
came  from  Theresa  Glen  as  she  stepped  from  the 
swaying  boat,  and,  walking  rapidly  up  the  sloping 
bank,  stood  there  waiting  for  the  sheriff  and  his 
deputy. 

They  came  presently.  On  the  back  seat  of  the 
vehicle  sat  a  motionless  figure.  Beside  him  on  ^he 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  073 

seat  lay  a  pair  of  crutches.  Theresa  raised  her 
hand  imperiously.  The  driver  drew  rein,  and  both 
men  lifted  their  hats,  holding  them  aloft  while  the 
stately  lady,  not  heeding  nor  caring  that  her  soft 
white  draperies  lay  against  the  defiling,  dusty 
wheels,  stepped  close  up  to  Hugh  Maury's  side  ami 
laid  upon  his  folded  hands  the  bunch  of  violets  that 
had  rested  in  her  belt  a  second  before. 

kk  Theresa — Miss  Glen !" 

II er  name  broke  in  a  cry  of  mingled  terror  and 
gladness  from  Hugh  Maury's  white  lips  —  terror 
that  she  should  have  seen  him  thus,  gladness  for 
the  sweet  womanliness  of  her  thought  for  him. 

kk  I  wanted  you  to  know  that  friends  were  near !" 
she  said,  softly ;  then,  with  a  gesture  to  the  driver, 
she  stepped  backward  from  between  the  dusty 
wheels  and  turned  her  face  steadily  in  the  direction 
of  the  honey-locust,  where  Hetty  Ogden  stood  alone, 
frightened,  bewildered. 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

GUILTY    OR   NOT    GUILTY  ? 

A  SPECIAL  midsummer  term  of  court  had  been 
£\.  convened  in  the  judicial  district  to  which  the 
little  town  of  Hawkspoint  appertained. 

Never  had  that  slumberous  locality  been  so  pro 
foundly  stirred.  Every  vacant  room  in  every 
house  known  to  be  available  to  the  general  public 
had  been  engaged  for  a  certain  date  weeks  before 
hand,  The  hospitality  of  the  most  exclusive  private 
house  was  invaded  and  taxed  to  the  utmost,  and 
that  in  the  dull  season. 

Mid- August !  The  cotton-fields  spread  their 
snowy  pennons  under  a  scorching  sky.  The  corn 
fields  lay  parched  and  yellow,  ready  for  the  harvest. 
Along  the  dusty  public  road  vehicle  after  vehicle 
rolled  noiselessly  toward  the  little  brick  court-house, 
about  whose  open  doors  and  windows  the  hot  air 
quivered  visibly. 

Horsemen  shunned  the  thick  clouds  of  dust  raised 
by  the  rolling  of  innumerable  wheels  and  gal 
loped  along  the  grassy  crest  of  the  levee.  The  heat 
was  no  deterrent  to  speed  ;  the  one  danger  Avas  that 
of  being  too  late.  The  mail-clerk  out  at  the  land 
ing,  who  was  imperatively  confined  to  the  store  to 
await  the  arrival  of  the  mail-packet,  chafed  and 
fumed  openly  at  its  abnormal  slowness.  The  col- 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  2?c 

ored  drivers  of  ox-teams,  which  were  plodding  their 
way  townward  laden  with  cord-wood,  prodded  their 
slow  beasts  with  such  unwonted  persistency  that 
they  essayed  a  clumsy  bovine  trot,  with  huge  red 
tongues  lolling  from  their  exasperated  jaws. 

There  was  but  one  thing  worth  striving  for  that 
day.  Every  one  wanted  to  be  in  time  for  the  open 
ing  of  Hugh  Maury's  trial.  This  was  the  day  that 
the  State  had  appointed  to  give  him  a  hearing  in 
that  matter  of  the  killing  of  George  Bemish's 
French  tutor,  who  had  been  found  dead  in  Doctor 
Bemish's  lane,  murdered — as  had  been  believed  for 
four  years — by  George  Bemish's  own  hand,  upon 
little  or  no  provocation. 

There  was  so  much  of  unusual  interest  attaching 
to  this  trial  that  high  and  low,  old  and  young,  men 
and  women  of  pure  Caucasian  lineage  or  of  hum 
blest  slave  estate,  rich  and  poor,  journeyed  and  hur 
ried  through  the  sweltering  heat  of  that  August 
day  to  hear  with  their  own  ears  and  see  with  their 
own  eyes  what  the  long-delayed  verdict  was  to 
be. 

There  was  the  voluntary  return  of  the  true  crimi 
nal,  whom  no  one  had  ever  suspected,  and  the  giving 
of  himself  up  to  the  authorities.  The  story  had  al 
ready  gone  abroad  how,  when  his  friends  had  gone 
to  make  a  special  plea  for  him  to  be  left  at  liberty 
on  parole,  as  it  were,  until  the  regular  fall  term  of 
the  court,  he  had  privately  dispatched  a  messenger 
for  the  Sheriff  and  given  himself  into  custody. 

There  was  the  old,  revived  romance  connecting 
the  name  of  the  prisoner  with  Leonard  Glen's  hand- 


276  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

some  sister,  whom  the  gossips  had  freshly  given  to 
the  new  doctor  for  a  possible  bride. 

There  was  the  foundationless  but  universally-ac 
cepted  addenda  to  this  love-episode  of  the  pretty 
girl  from  Virgima  who  had  come  all  the  way  from 
her  distant  home  to  stand  by  Hugh  JMaury,  to  whom 
she  had  pledged  herself  in  marriage  as  soon  as  the 
demands  of  justice  were  satisfied. 

There  was  the  dramatic  feature  of  George  I3e- 
misli's  sudden  reappearance  under  his  father's  roof- 
coming  from  whence  no  one  could  surmise,  but 
bringing  back  with  him  that  tlcbonnaire  fascination 
of  face  and  manner  that  had  made  him  irresistible 
to  men  and  women  in  those  by-gone  days  to  which 
all  Ilawkspoint  seemed  to  be  returning. 

There  was  the  thrilling  feature  of  his  absolute  de 
votion  to  the  person  and  the  cause  of  the  man  for 
whose  crime  he  had  been  suffering  these  four  years. 
There  was  something  magnanimously  line  in  it  that 
tended  the  universal  heart  to  outspoken  appreciation. 

There  was  the  whispered  report  that  Miss  Glen 
and  the  young  lady  from  Virginia  were  to  be  in 
attendance  at  the  trial.  Why,  no  one  could  divine ; 
but  the  bare  possibility  of  such  a  novel  spectacle  as 
fair  women  within  the  precincts  of  Ilawspoint's 
dingy  court-room  served  to  swell  the  crowd  im 
measurably.  Oh,  yes,  there  was  abundant  cause  for 
the  crowding  of  Hawkspoint's  Court-house  that 
August  morning. 

There  were  those  who  said,  snarlingly,  that  a 
criminal  with  less  influential  friends  than  the  Glens 
and  the  Bemishes  and  Doctor  Murray  would  have 


A  STtlANGti  PILGRIMAGE.  -^i 

'v    1     t 

been  compelled  to  await  the  regular  fall  term  of 
court,  biding  his  time  in  the  same  miserable,  illy- 
ventilated  jail-room  wherein  George  Bcmish  had  lain 
for  a  month,  until  he  had  succeeded  in  releasing  him- 

O 

self  one  dark  night. 

There  were  others — those  who  knew  best — who 
said  that  if  Hugh  Maury  were  kept  incarcerated 
through  the  entire  sultry  summer  there  would  be 
no  prisoner  to  plead  guilty  or  not  guilty  before  any 
earthly  tribunal.  His  powers  of  physical  endurance 
were  on  the  wane. 

There  was  a  notable  array  of  u  turn-outs  "  grouped 
about  under  the  trees  in  front  of  the  Court-house 
that  morning.  The  very  earliest  comers  had  the 
satisfaction  of  seeing  these  line  vehicles  unloaded 
before  they  were  driven  off  for  shelter  under  the 
trees  whose  dust-laden  leaves  hung  motionless  under 
the  coppery  skies. 

M>.  Leonard  Glen  and  three  closely-veiled  ladies 
had  come  in  the  open  barouche  whose  splendid 
dapple  greys,  freed  from  the  carriage-pole,  were 
scornfully  sniffing  the  burnt  grass  under  their 
p:impered  noses.  One  of  the  three  ladies  whom  the 
clerk  of  the  court  obsequiously  showed  to  seats 
inside  the  railed  space  sacred  to  the  "Bar  was  small, 
and  was  dressed  in  deep  mourning.  The  oldest 
Ilawkspointer  could  not  remember  having  ever  seen 
her;  the  youngest  villager  immediately  announced 
that  Hugh  Maury's  affianced  bride  was  already  in 
the  court-room. 

Doctor  .Bcmish,  leaning  heavily  on  George's  arm, 
had  appeared  in  person,  much  to  the  surprise  of 


0*8  A  ST12AXGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

every  one,  he  having  boen  invisible  to  his  old  con 
stituents  for  so  long.  lie  looked  worn  and  aged  as 
he  clambered  laboriously  down  from  his  buggy,  but 
there  was  a  placid  light  on  his  benevolent  face  that 
was  good  to  see. 

Close  behind  the  Bemish  buggy  had  come  Doctor 
Murray's  drag,  the  toniest  turn-out  in  all  the  coun 
try-side.  On  the  back  seat  of  the  drag  \vas  a  figure 
which  excited  universal  attention  and  some  furtive 
smiles.  It  was  an  ancient  dame,  whose  high-piled, 
comical  bandana  turban  flashed  its  gay  plaids  into 
the  eyes  of  the  spectators,  in  sharp  contrast  with  the 
weazened  black  face  beneath  it. 

Springing  lightly  from  the  drag,  the  doctor  had 
given  both  hands  to  the  ancient  dame  and  almost 
lifted  her  from  the  vehicle.  Side  by  side  with  the 
withered  old  negress  the  broad-shouldered,  stalwart 
young  doctor,  whom  everybody  knew  and  liked  by 
this  time,  entered  the  Court-house,  and  were  shown  to 
seats  alongside  the  Glens  and  Bemishes  inside  the 
railing. 

After  them  the  herd !  They  were  all  there,  gentle 
and  simple— the  well-wisher  of  this  repentant  evil 
doer  and  the  blatant  clamorer  for  that  sort  of 
justice  which  demands  an  eye  for  an  eye,  a  life  for  a 
life — Avhen  the  Sheriff  and  his  deputy  came  through 
a  side-door,  walking  slowly,  to  accommodate  their 
steps  to  those  of  the  prisoner.  Between  them,  lean 
ing  heavily  on  his  polished  crutches,  but  with  his 
handsome  head  held  well  up,  with  a  look  of  perfect 
peace  pervading  every  feature  of  his  marred  visage, 
Hunii  Maury  walked. 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  0^9 

There  was  a  confused  murmur  in  the  Court-house  ; 
a  buzz  of  commingled  surprise,  pity  and  incredulity ! 
More  than  one  indignant  denial  of  the  once  hand 
some  young  Creole's  identity  passed  from  lip  to  lip. 
That  Hugh  Maury  ?  Never!  Nothing  on  earth 
could  have  changed  him  to  such  an  extent !  When 
the  first  dull  thud  of  his  wooden  crutches  fell  upon 
the  stillness  of  the  court-room,  a  small,  black-gloved 
hand  went  out  convulsively  toward  Theresa  Glen. 

She  took  it  between  both  her  own  and  held  it 
there.  There  was  not  even  a  perceptible  tremor  in 
her  own  frame ;  she  had  screwed  her  courage  up  to 
this  ordeal ;  she  would  not  relax  the  tension  by  one 
thread.  She  was  there  to  stand  loyally  by  the  man 
who  had  been  involved  in  all  this  woe  and  shame  fcr 
her  sake.  She  was  ready,  if  the  occasion  demanded, 
to  stand  up  before  all  these  people  and  repeat  the 
vile  insult  which  had  cost  that  intoxicated  French 
man  his  life. 

Among  them  all  they  had  failed  in  preventing  her 
coming  there  that  day.  George  Bemish,  the  old 
doctor  and  Archibald  Murray — he  whose  lightest 
word  she  would  gladly  have  made  the  law  of  her 
life— failed  in  moving  her  from  her  firmly-expressed 
resolution  to  be  present  at  this  trial. 

There  was  some  slight  commotion  when  the 
prisoner  reached  the  seat  assigned  him.  The  Sheriff 
and  his  deputy  withdrew  from  his  side  to  give  place 
to  the  Bernishes,  father  and  son,  who  ranged  them 
selves  on  either  side  of  the  accused. 

In  a  voice  not  quite  firm,  the  clerk  of  the  court 
commanded  the  prisoner  to  stand.  By  the  aid  of 


280  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

George's  firm  hand  the  cripple  was  sooi  poised  upon 
his  crutches.  Then,  in  the  dreary  verb  age  of  the 
law,  the  indictment  in  the  case  of  tha  State  of 
Louisiana  versus  Hugh  Maury  was  set  forth  in  pro 
lix  terms.  The  prisoner  stood  with  his  head  held 
slightly  bent,  listening.  He  kne\v  that  somewhere 
near  him  was  the  State's  Attorney,  whose  solemn 
duty  it  was  to  bend  every  energy  for  the  convic 
tion  of  his  maimed  and  broken  body.  He  knew 
that  somewhere  before  him  were  seated  twelve 
men,  whose  solemn  duty  it  was  to  divest  them 
selves  of  all  personal  bias  in  this  grave  juncture. 
Could  Ben  McBride,  their  foreman,  do  that?  lie 
knew  that  somewhere  near  him — close  enough  for 
him  to  touch  them,  perhaps,  if  he  had  put  out  his 
hand— were  Hetty  (dear,  faithful  little  friend !)  and 
Theresa,  who  had  not  shrunk  from  seeing  him  pass 
through  this  ordeal,  and  old  Lucy,  his  most  abject 
and  devoted  slave  ;  but  it  was  not  of  them  he  was 
thinking.  His  entire  attention  was  riveted  upon  the 
clerk  of  the  court,  as  lie  solemnly  intoned  (so  his  im 
patient  soul  called  it)  the  indictment.  At  its  close 
he  stood  indicted  for  murder. 

There  was  an  ominous  stillness,  a  profound  hush, 
in  the  court-room  when  this  mere  prologue  to  the 
drama  they  were  all  assembled  to  witness  came  to  a 
close.  There  was,  too,  an  ominous  hush  outside. 
The  coppery  August  skies  had  suddenly  become 
overcast  with  masses  of  black,  flying  clouds,  that 
scudded  athwart  the  hot  sunshine.  The  song-birds 
in  the  dusty  tree-tops  twittered  in  low,  frightened 
tones.  Forks  of  lightning  darted  earthward  from 


A  STRAtfGE  PILGRIMAGE.  $${ 

the  high-piled  clouds,  followed  swiftly  by  one  awful 
burst  of  sound,  as  of  a  huge  cannon  discharged 
without  premeditation.  It  smote  startlingly  upon 
the  air.  The  tethered  beasts  snorted  with  terror. 
The  loose  window-sash  of  the  court-room  rattled  un 
der  the  shock.  Theresa  Glen  passed  a  protecting 
arm  around  Hetty's  trembling  form.  There  was  a 
moment  of  profound  stillness.  Then  the  Judge,  in  a 
voice  made  puny  by  that  awful  trump  of  sound  from 
on  high,  was  heard  saying: 

"  What  has  the  counsel  for  the  defense  to  say  ?" 

Hugh  Maury,  turning  his  sightless  eyes  in  the 
direction  of  the  Judge's  bench,  answered  in  a  clear, 
firm  voice : 

"  May  it  please  your  Honor,  there  is  no  counsel 
for  the  defense  !" 

"What,  then,  has  the  prisoner  to  answer  for 
himself?"  the  Judge  resumed,  in  an  official  mono 
tone.  "Is  he  guilty  or  not  guilty  of  the  crime  of 
murder,  as  charged  in  the  indictment  of  the  State 
against  Hugh  Maury,  just  heard  of  all  these 
present  ?" 

"  Xot  guilty !" 

The  words  fell  unfalteringly  from  the  lips  of  the 
prisoner.  Kot  even  by  an  added  shade  of  pallor  did 
his  face  bear  witness  to  the  awful  tumult  of  his  soul. 
Xever,  even  in  the  first  moment  of  his  keen  remorse 
and  terror  over  the  passionate  deed  that  had  been 
his  undoing  had  he  suffered  more.  There  was  a 
murmur  of  surprise  among  the  auditors. 

The  Judge  told  him  to  be  seated.  He  sank 
gratefully  into  the  vacant  chair  between  Doctor 


282  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

Bemish  and  George.  "With  his  hands  resting  upon 
the  cross-piece  of  his  crutches,  he  listened  unmoved 
while  the  State's  Attorney  set  forth,  with  ghastly 
precision,  all  the  details  of  the  finding  of  Adrien 
Michelet's  dead  body,  all  the  bits  of  circumstantial 
evidence  that  had  led  to  the  imprisonment  of  the 
wrong  man,  and  all  the  dastardliness  of  this  murder 
of  a  friendless  foreigner,  with  lurid  vehemence.  It 
was  his  duty  to  convict. 

At  its  close,  Hugh  Maury  arose  voluntarily. 

"  I  arise,"  he  said.,  slowly  and  impressively,  stand 
ing  with  his  unseeing  eyes  turned  respectfully  to 
ward  the  Judge  on  the  bench,  "  to  make  my  state 
ment  in  the  cause  of  law  and  justice." 

Again  that  awful  trump  of  sound  from  the  cloud- 
capped  sky.  Then  the  summer  thunder-storm  was 
upon  them  in  all  its  fury.  Peal  after  peal  of  awful 
thunder  followed  quickly  on  the  dancing,  leaping, 
darting  forks  of  lightning  with  crashes  which  made 
strong  men  start  nervously  and  the  little  group  of 
women  in  the  court-room  to  turn  pale  with  appre 
hension.  In  the  midst  of  this  uproar  Hugh  Maury 
entered  upon  his  public  confession  : 

"  As  the  indictment  stands,  your  Honor,  I  am 
charged  with  having,  on  the  sixteenth  day  of  May, 
in  the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand  eight  hundred 
and  fifty-six,  willfully  and  with  malice  aforethought 
murdered  one  Adrien  Michelet,  on  the  premises  of 
Doctor  Henry  Bemish,  in  this  parish. 

"  To  that  charge  of  murder,  your  Honor,  I  plead 
not  guilty.  But  for  the  woe  and  suffering  I  have 
wittinglv  and  unwittin^-lv  inflicted  on  others  some 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  0^3 

punishment  should  be  meted  out  to  me,  and  it  shall 
be  left  to  the  judgment  of  the  gentlemen  of  the 
jury,  who  have  been  impaneled  for  this  occasion,  to 
decide  what  my  sentence  shall  be  after  I  have  told 
the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the 
truth,  nbout  the  killing  of  Adrien  Michelet  on  the 
sixteenth  day  of  May,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  one 
thousand  eight  hundred  and  fifty -six. 

;'  For  the  pain  my  statement  must  necessarily  give 
to  some  present,  I  ask  their  pardon  in  advance."  He 
bent  his  head  slightly  in  the  direction  of  the  spot 
where  Theresa  Glen  sat  holding  fast  to  Hetty's 
little  hand.  "But  my  explanation  must  be  full  and 
entire. 

"  On  that  day,  may  it  please  your  Honor,  a  num 
ber  of  the  young  people  of  this  neighborhood  had 
met  together,  for  a  day  of  merry-making  and  fishing, 
on  the  banks  of  the  bayou  that  runs  through  the 
Bemish  place.  Among  the  other  young  people  as 
sembled  there  was  the  unfortunate  Adrien  Michelet, 
a  Xew  Orleans  Creole  whom  Doctor  Bemish  had  en 
gaged  as  companion  or  tutor  for  his  son,  George  Be 
rn  ish.  If  Adrien  Michelet's  character  was  under 
discussion,  I  think  there  are  those  present  who 
would  bear  me  out  in  saying  that  he  was  at  all 
times  given  to  a  certain  freedom  of  speech  and  man 
ner  to  ladies  which  filled  every  true  man  with  dis 
gust  and  indignation. 

''  I  was  on  the  committee  of  refreshments  at  that 
entertainment  in  the  woods,  and,  returning  from  a 
distant  grove  which  we  had  selected  for  the  table 
arrangements,  I  came  suddenly  upon  the  lady  whom 


284  A  ST'tlAKdH  PfLdKLMAGM. 

I  had  had  the  honor  of  escorting  to  the  fish-fry, 
walking  rapidly  toward  me,  closely  followed  by 
Adrien  Michelet,  whose  impudent  assurance  was 
quelled  at  sight  of  me  bearing  wrath  fully  down 
upon  him. 

"Some  one  caught  my  arm  and  begged  me  not  to 
break  up  the  whole  thing  by  a  row.  Jt  was  George 
Bemish. 

"  I  told  him  it  was  hard  to  keep  my  hands  off  the 
scoundrel.  He  answered,  'Leave  him  to  me!'  J 
believe  those  words  of  his  were  fatally  used  against 
him  later  on.  All  that  he  meant  by  them  he  imme 
diately  put  into  execution  by  ordering  the  French 
man  to  return  to  the  house  and  not  appear  among 
his  guests  again  that  day — an  order  which  the  tutor 
obeyed,  scowling  savagely  at  me  as  he  turned 
away. 

"  It  was  perhaps  four  hours  after  that  that  I  was 
driving  rapidly  along  Doctor  Bemislfs  lane,  taking 
home  from  the  fish-fry  the  young  lady  whom  Mich- 
elet  had  annoyed.  The  sun  had  been  below  the 
tree-tops  long  enough  for  dark  shadows  to  lie  along 
the  hedging  that  lined  the  lane.  As  I  drove  along, 
Adrien  Michelet  sprang  from  among  the  shadows 
with  a  mocking,  insulting  laugh.  The  horse  shied, 
and  with  a  jump  carried  the  buggy  so  far  beyond 
the  spot  where  Michel et  stood  that  he  was  left  out 
of  sight. 

"  The  whole  thing  was  so  sudden,  and  the  lady's 
fright  at  the  plunge  the  horse  made  centered  her 
attention  so  exclusively  on  her  own  danger,  that  she 
did  not  see  what  I  saw — a  piece  of  blue  ribbon  held 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  285 

tauntingly  aloft  by  the  Frenchman.  I  had  missed 
the  bow  from  her  neck  and  knew  it  belonged  to 
her. 

"  I  could  not  drive  on  and  leave  that  trophy  in  his 
possession,  knowing  him  capable  of  making  false, 
coarse  boasts.  Perhaps  your  Honor  will  say  I 
might  have  waited.  I  did  not.  I  was  out  of  the 
buggy,  with  some  mumbled  excuse  about  having 
dropped  a  glove.  I  am  glad  my  horse  carried  the 
buggy  so  far  that  day  that  by  the  time  I  got  back 
to  Michelet  the  vehicle  and  its  inmate  were  not  to 
be  seen. 

"I  tried  to  ask  for  that  bit  of  blue  ribbon  without 
showing  the  fury  that  was  blinding  me.  He  told 
me,  with  a  devilish  laugh,  that  it  had  been  given  to 
him.  I  told  him  that  he  lied.  In  a  moment  his 
knife  was  at  my  heart,  and  it  was  only  a  question  as 
to  which  one  of  us  should  strike  first.  The  lot  fell 
to  me.  I  left  him  there,  not  knowing,  not  caring 
then,  whether  he  was  dead  or  alive. 

u  I  had  come  off  victor — the  bow  of  blue  ribbon 
was  in  my  pocket.  I  hurried  back  to  the  buggy. 
My  blood  was  in  such  a  feverish  tumult  that  I  do 
not  think  I  realized  at  all  what  I  had  done  until  1 
saw  the  horror  of  it  reflected  in  other  eyes. 

u  I  left  the  neighborhood  that  night — Hying  as 
men  will  try  to  fly  from  their  own  consciences  and 
the  results  of  their  own  evil  deeds.  I  think  it  never 
once  occurred  to  me  that  my  rash  deed  could  be  laid 
at  another  man's  door.  When  I  had  been  away  a 
month,  or  perhaps  longer,  I  ventured  to  write  to  a 
trusted  friend,  who  was  of  the  opinion  that  I  had 


280  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

been  called  away  to  the  sick-bed  of  a  near  relative. 
I  told  him  to  write  me  of  everything  that  had  hap 
pened  in  the  neighborhood  since  my  departure. 

"  He  answered  very  promptly.  He  told  me  of  the 
finding  of  Adrien  Michelet's  body  in  Doctor  Be- 
mish's  lane ;  of  George  Bemish's  arrest  on  suspicion 
of  the  murder;  of  his  subsequent  escape  from  jail 
and  departure  from  the  neighborhood  ;  of  his  old 
father's  crushed  and  despairing  condition. 

"  It  was  then,  may  it  please  your  Honor,  that  con 
science  plied  her  scorpion-lash  most  fiercely.  George 
Bemish  had  been  my  best-beloved  friend  through  all 
my  brotherless,  sisterless  boyhood !  George  Be 
mish's  father  had  been  friend,  father  and  mother,  all 
in  one,  to  me.  That  they  should  be  the  selected  vic 
tims  for  my  crime  seemed  a  relined  cruelty  on  the 
part  of  fate. 

"  I  wrote  to  my  friend  to  learn,  if  possible,  in 
what  direction  George  Bemish  had  fled.  Following 
the  clew  he  sent  me  in  reply,  I  began  a  pilgrimage 
in  search  of  the  friend  to  whom  I  meant  to  confess 
the  truth  and  to  bring  home  in  triumph  to  his 
father.  God,  in  his  infinite  wisdom,  however,  or 
dained  otherwise. 

"  When,  a-  few  months  ago,  your  Honor,  I  found 
m}Tself  the  distorted  and  helpless  thing  I  am  to-day, 
and  knew  that  I  could  no  longer  pursue  my  search 
for  George  Bemish,  I  turned  my  steps  this  way, 
meaning  to  do  all  that  it  seemed  I  was  to  be  per 
mitted  to  do,  and  that  was  to  relieve  this,  my  friend, 
from  the  foul  suspicion  that  wrongfully  attached  to 
his  name,  and  to  put  myself  into  the  hands  of  the 


A  STP.ANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  287 

law,  to  be  dealt  with  according  to  the  judgment  of 
my  peers. 

"  I  have  done  both — the  case  is  in  your  hands." 

He  sat  down  exhausted,  and  for  a  moment  his 
heavy  breathing  could  be  heard  by  those  nearest 
him. 

The  storm  was  still  raging.  The  rain  was  dashing 
against  the  closed  sash  in  blinding  sheets.  It  was 
only  when  Hugh  Maury  stopped  speaking  that  any 
one  thought  of  the  uproar  outside. 

All  eyes  Avere  turned  upon  the  State's  Attor 
ney.  What  step  would  he  take  next  ?  Before  the 
State's  official  had  time  to  answer  that  question  to 
himself  Doctor  Bemish  arose  slowly  to  his  feet. 

He  Avas  an  impressiA*e  figure,  standing  there  with 
his  sih^ery  locks  uncovered,  one  hand  resting  on 
Hugh  Maury's  shoulder,  Avhile  -with  the  othfer  he 
motioned  to  be  heard.  He  Avas  a  man  whom  all  the 
country-side  had  delighted  to  honor  in  the  days  of 
his  useful  and  beneficent  reie;n  as  the  doctor. 

o 

"  May  it  please  your  Honor,  and  you,  my  friends, 
who  have  come  here  for  the  sensation  of  this  thing, 
I  should  like  to  announce  myself  as  a  Avitness  for  the 
defense.  May  I  go  on  ?"  This  with  his  line  blue 
eves  raised  to  the  Judge,  Avho  responded  by  a  low- 
spoken  "  Yes."  He  AA-as  afraid,  stern  official  as  he 
Avas,  to  trust  his  AToice  with  a  longer  ansAver. 

"  By  the  laAvs  of  compensation,"  the  old  man  Avent 
on  in  his  IOAV,  gentle  voice,  the  voice  that  had  in  the 
days  gone  by  brought  cheer  and  comfort  to  many  a 
sick  and  suffering  one  among  his  listeners,  "  this  our 
fellow-sinner  deserves  to  be  dealt  by  very  leniently. 


288  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

The  very  elements  are  in  a  tumult  over  this  scene  of 
man's  retributive  judgment.  I,  the  man  who  above 
all  others  have  suffered  most  from  that  rash  deed 
with  this  single  grave  exception,"  laying  his  fatherly 
hand  upon  Hugh's  wavy  brown  hair,  "desire  to 
plead  his  cause.  Through  him,  I  was  bereft  of  son, 
good  name  and  peace  of  mind  at  one  blow !  Through 
him,  I  was  left  to  battle  against  suspicion  and  cold 
ness  and  aversion,  where  always  friendly  greetings 
had  been  mine.  Through  him  the  son  of  my  loins, 
the  one  joy  and  comfort  of  my  life,  lay  hidden  like  a 
hunted  animal  for  four  bitter  years.  Through  him 
I  was  doomed  to  spend  my  declining  years  in  such 
bitterness  of  spirit,  in  such  dreary  loneliness,  that  I 
have  been  tempted  over  and  over  again,  my  friends, 
to  curse  God  and  die  !  And  yet  I  am  proud  this 
day  to  call  Hugh  Maury  my  friend. 

"  Look  at  him,  your  Honor;  look  at  him  well !  Look 
at  the  wooden  crutches  which  so  poorly  supply  the 
place  of  a  young  man's  strong,  swift  limbs  !  Look 
at  the  scarred  lids  which  shield  his  sightless  eyes ! 
Does  he  need  any  counsel  for  the  defense  ?  Has  not 
the  God  of  infinite  justice  traced  His  own  verdict 
indelibly  upon  the  poor  maimed  form  of  this  man 
whom  I  honor  myself  in  calling  my  friend  ?  What 
can  your  laws,  or  your  lawyers,  or  your  jury  of  his 
peers  take  from  him  that  would  rob  his  life  of  one 
single  joy  ?  His  peers !"  The  old  man  turned 
abruptly  upon  the  twelve  jurymen  in  the  box. 
"  Are  you  his  peers  ?  Is  there  one  among  you  all 
who  would  have  periled  his  life  in  the  fierce  flames 
of  a  burning  building  to  rescue,  not  a  fair,  young 


A.  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  280 

heroine  of  romance,  but  a  poor,  old,  humble  slave, 
whom  every  one  else  had  forgotten  \  Is  there  one 
among  you  all  who,  having  in  a  moment  of  hot 
wrath  taken  the  life  of  a  fellow-creature,  would  have 
consumed  your  years  and  your  substance  to  free 
another  man's  name  from  suspicion — that,  too,  when 
justice  slumbered  or  had  forgotten  you  ?  If  there  is 
such  a  one  among  you,  gentlemen,  then  you  are  his 
peer,  and  I  honor  you  in  admitting  it." 

The  State's  Attorney  turned  from  this  old  man 
eloquent  as  he  ceased  speaking,  to  address  himself  to 
the  jury.  There  was  a  commotion  among  the  group 
of  women  sitting  within  the  rail.  George  Bemish 
and  Archibald  Murray  sprang  forward  simultane 
ously.  It  was  George  Bemish  who  reached  the 
group  first,  and  lifting  Theresa's  limp  form  in  his 
arms,  bore  her  swiftly  through  the  crowd  into  the 
fresh,  rain-washed  air,  followed  closely  by  Archie 
and  Mrs.  Glen. 

A  few  moments  of  suspense !  Then  there  floated 
out  to  them  on  the  little  balcony  to  wrhich  they  had 
carried  the  fainting  girl  a  murmur  of  applause 
which  swelled  into  an  excited,  triumphant  cry !  The 
crowd  came  surging  from  the  open  doors. 

"  What  is  it  ?  What  are  they  saying  ?"  Theresa 
asked,  opening  her  eyes  and  looking  into  the  first 
pair  of  eyes  that  met  hers.  They  were  glistening 
with  tears ! — those  great,  luminous  eyes  of  George 
Bemish's. 

"It  is  a  nolle  pros."  he  answered,  wishing  from 
his  heart  that  she  had  not  chosen  that  critical  mo 
ment  to  give  Avay  in.  lie  wanted  to  be  in  there 


200  A  STRANGE  PILGRTMAG-E. 

Avhere  the  men  were  weaving  their  arms  together 
into  a  triumphal  car  for  Hugh  Maury,  and  where  his 
old  father  was  sitting  sobbing  like  a  hysterical  girl, 
and  where  the  Judge  and  the  State's  Attorney  and 
the  twelve  jurymen  were  all  either  searching  for 
their  pocket-handkerchiefs  or  furtively  stuffing 
them  back  into  their  side  pockets,  and  where  Hetty 
Ogden,  that  demure-faced,  dove-eyed  little  Virginian 
who  in  the  last  few  weeks  had  come  to  enter  so 
largely  into  his  calculations  for  the  future,  was 
hovering  about  his  father  in  that  angelically  con 
solatory  fashion  which  is  given  to  but  few  women 
and  no  man. 


A  8TRANUE  PlLUULUAUE.  291 


CHAPTEE  XXIY. 

HETTY  STRAIGHTENS  OUT  THE  SNARL. 

TO  FEEL  that  fate  has  done  its  very  worst; 
that  there  is  no  longer  any  call  to  gird  up 
one's  loins  to  resistance ;  to  know  that  malice  has 
not  a  single  poisoned  dart  left  in  its  quiver ;  to  glide 
monotonously  through  the  hours  that  bring  with 
them  nothing  to  shock  or  to  startle  the  tired  pulse, 
sometimes  brings  a  feeling  akin  to  happiness  to  souls 
that  have  been  storm-tossed. 

Theresa  Glen,  swinging  lazily  in  a  low-swung 
hammock,  out  under  the  clear  blue  October  skies, 
reasoned  thus  to  herself,  and  fancied  for  the  moment 
that  she  was  enunciating  a  great  moral  axiom 
which  time  had  left  for  her  to  formulate. 

She  imagined  she  had  conquered  every  rebellious 
fiber  of  her  moral  being.  In  reality  she  was  simply 
extremely  weak  from  the  severe  tension  of  mind 
and  body  under  which  she  had  labored  so  long,  and 
was  too  tired  to  think,  almost  too  tired  to  feel.  To 
her  this  lull  was  the  death  of  passion. 

Through  the  swaying  branches  of  the  glossy-leaved 
magnolia  grandiflora,  into  whose  bark  was  driven 
the  ring  and  staple  that  supported  one  end  of  her 
hammock,  she  could  catch  glimpses  of  bright  blue 
sky-patches  ;  through  the  nodding,  waving  rose 
bushes  that  .were  swinging  their  heavily-burdened 


202  A  KTRANQE 

branches  restlessly  under  the  cool  evening  breeze 
she  could  see  the  lake — dimpled  and  rumpled  und 
blue;  Paul's  tame  poulter-pigeons  were  strutting 
and  cooing  softly  on  the  grass  all  about  her  feet. 
Paul  had  been  there  in  the  hammock  with  her  up  to 
a  little  while  ago.  The  largest  crumbs  he  had  scat 
tered  to  his  pets  were  not  all  consumed  yet.  He  had 
been  chattering  to  her  in  a  sweet,  childish  treble 
about  his  boy  hopes  and  desires. 

She  liked  to  have  Paul  with  her.  He  rested  her. 
He  belonged  to  the  future,  and  his  childish  prattle 
was  all  of  the  things  that  were  going  to  happen  to 
him  or  be  done  by  him  in  the  great  untried  to  come. 
More  and  more  she  tried  to  merge  every  interest  of 
her  own  life — such  a  poor,  marred  life  as  it  had 
proven  to  be,  she  thought,  with  infinite  sadness — into 
the  fresh,  springing,  joyous  hopes  and  fancies  of  the 
boy  who  had  just  gone  away  from  her,  singing  and 
caroling  like  a  lark.  Paul's  future  should  be  her 
future !  No  one  could  rob  her  of  that  pure  joy ! 

A  faint  metallic  click  caused  her  to  turn  her  eyes 
in  the  direction  of  the  front  gate.  Hetty  Ogden 
had  just  come  through  it,  walking  quickly,  with  her 
little  hands  clasped  about  an  immense  bunch  of 
golden-rod,  above  whose  yellow  plumes  her  sweet, 
flushed  face  could  just  be  seen. 

She  was  glad  that  the  sight  of  the  girl's  bright, 
sweet  face  had  come  to  be  really  pleasant  to  her. 
She  ranked  her  affection  for  Hetty  among  her 
achievements.  It  was  a  sure  sign,  she  told  herself, 
that  she  was  entirely  and  forever  cured  of  that 
transitory  weakness  for  Hetty's  cousin.  She  was 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIM  AGE.  393 

glad  she  could  feel  so  lazily  comfortable  in  her 
swinging  nest  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  Hetty  had 
just  parted  from  Archibald  Murray  at  the  front 
gate  after  a  long  drive,  which  had  kept  them  away 
from  the  house  fully  an  hour  and  sent  the  child 
back  to  her  with  glowing  cheeks  and  dancing  eyes. 

"  May  I  sit  in  one  end  f '  she  asked,  untying  her 
hat-strings  as  she  neared  the  hammock,  and  pushing 
the  damp  rings  of  hair  back  from  her  forehead. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Theresa,  drawing  her  skirts  a 
little  closer  about  her  ankles ;  "  on  one  condition." 

"  And  that  is  ?"  Hetty  asked,  preparing  to  appro 
priate  her  allowance  of  the  hammock. 

"  That  you  don't  swing,  and  that  you  do  all  the 
talking.  Swinging  always  makes  me  giddy,  unless 
I  can  regulate  the  motion,  and  I  am  afaid  I  am  lazy 
this  afternoon." 

Hetty  laughed  luxuriously  as  she  curled  up  in  a 
knot,  and  with  her  clasped  hands  under  her  head 
answered : 

"  I  call  that  two  conditions.  I  want  to  do  all  the 
talking,  however,  this  time,  Miss  Thersie.  I  have 
something  to  tell  you.  I  want  your  advice  in  a  very 
important  matter." 

She  laid  her  offering  of  golden-rod  in  Theresa's 
lap. 

"Very  important,  pretty  one?" 

"Very  —  nothing  less  than  the  selection  of  a 
home !"  she  said,  in  a  demure  voice. 

Theresa  was  silent.     Hetty  laughed  musically. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  of  »  girl  having  three  offers 
in  one  day  $"  she  asked,  opening  her  eyes  very  wide 


«94  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

to  emphasize  the  magnitude  of  this  annoance- 
ment. 

"  Three  offers  ?     From " 

Theresa's  voice  was  peculiarly  distant.  She  had 
never  seen  any  approach  to  vulgarity  in  Doctor 
Murray's  pretty  cousin.  She  hoped  none  was  about 
to  develop  on  the  strength  of  these  conquests. 

"Three  offers  from  three  gentlemen  —  one,  two, 
three!"  said  Hetty,  saucily,  counting  them  off  on 
her  fingers.  "  And  all  so  equally  eligible  that  with 
out  your  advice,  dear  Miss  Thersie,  I  am  quite  sure 
I  shall  make  a  wrong  choice,  and  that  would  be 
fatal,  you  know." 

"Then  you  have  no  individual  preferences  by 
which  to  guide  yourself  in  this  grave  decision?" 
Theresa  said,  frigidly.  There  were  limits  to  her 
powers  of  endurance,  she  began  to  suspect,  angrily. 

Hetty  laughed  a  little,  low,  almost  insolent  laugh, 
and  looked  at  her  a  second  fixedly.  It  angered 
Theresa  still  more  to  find  herself  flushing  and  paling 
under  the  steady  gaze  of  the  girl's  great,  clear  gray 
eyes.  Such  a  child  as  she  was,  too ! 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  have !"  said  Hetty,  mercifully  turning 
her  eyes  away  and  fixing  them  on  a  patch  of  blue 
sky  immediately  over  her  head.  "  I  have  a  very 
decided  preference ;  but  one's  preferences  are  not 
always  the  best  guides,  are  they,  in  matters  of  this 
sort  3" 

"Not  always,"  said  Theresa.  "But  suppose  you 
tell  me  all  about  your  conquests  ?" 

"  Conquests  ?" 

"  Offers,  then,  and  I  can  advise  better." 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  393 

Instead  of  answering  immediately,  Hetty  struck 
the  grass  beneath  the  hammock  sharply  with  the 
toe  of  one  little  boot.  The  poulter-pigeons  fluttered 
clumsily  out  of  her  reach.  The  hammock  swung 
briskly.  Theresa  turned  deathly  white. 

"  Oh,  what  a  wretch  !  You  told  me  not  to  swing ! 
You  are  as  pale  as  death !  I'll  get  right  up  and  tell 
my  story  on  my  knees !  That's  where  I  ought  to  be 
in  your  presence !" 

"  You'll  do  nothing  of  the  sort,  you  ridiculous 
child,"  Theresa  said,  putting  out  a  detaining  hand. 

"I  was  trying  to  get  this  letter  out  of  my 
pocket,"  Hetty  said,  remorsefully,  "  and  pockets  are 
so  hard  to  get  into  nowadays.  You  are  pale 
yet," 

"  Xever  mind  me.  If  you  have  anything  to  tell  me, 
do  it  at  once,  Hetty.  I  dare  not  stay  out  after  the 
dew  begins  to  fall.  .1  am  getting  to  be  a  rickety 
old  maid." 

"  Yes — hum !  "Well,  my  first  offer  comes  from 
poor  old  Mr.  John  Rose." 

"  The  brother  of  the  crazy  woman  who  made  so 
much  trouble  for  your  cousin  ?" 

"The  very  same.  But  Mr.  Hose  himself  is  a 
saint." 

"  Rather  an  old  saint  for  you,  isn't  he,  Hetty  ?" 

«  Old— for  me  ?     Oh,  oh,  dear !" 

The  hammock  swung  again.  This  time  involun 
tarily.  Hetty's  irrepressible  laugh  rang  clear  as  a 
bell  upon  the  quiet  air. 

"  Dear,  dear  Miss  Thersie,  what  a  goose  you  must 
take  me  for  1" 


29C  A  RTKANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

"  No,  only  for  a  very  happy  girl.  I  love  to  hear 
you  laugh." 

"  Poor  old  Mr.  John !  He  writes  to  tell  me  that, 
as  I  was  staying  here  so  much  longer  than  I  had  at 
first  planned  to  do,  it  had  occurred  to  him  that  per 
haps  I  was  in  some  doubts  as  to  where  to  make  my 
future  home.  He  writes  that  poor  Miss  Parmelie  is 
dead—'  at  rest,'  he  calls  it — and  that  if  I  will  come 
with  the  boys  and  take  up  my  home  there,  he  will 
be  a  father  to  us  all.  Isn't  he  good  P 

"  Very.     But  you  don't  want  to  go  ?" 

"  I  am  going  to  do  just  whatever  you  advise  me 
to  do.  Just  now,  when  Cousin  Archie  was  putting 
me  out  at  the  gate,  he  told  me  to  go  to  you  for  ad 
vice.  He  said  I  never  could  go  to  a  sweeter  or 
wiser  woman." 

"  Thanks — both  to  you  and  your  cousin.  I  only 
wish  I  deserved  such  exalted  commendation,"  said 
Theresa,  with  a  ring  of  irony  in  her  cool  tones. 

"  My  second  offer  comes  from  Doctor  Bemish  and 
is  dreadfully  like  the  first.  You  know  Mr.  Bemish 
wants  to  take  Mr.  Maury  to  Europe.  He  says  a  sea 
voyage  will  quite  set  him  up." 

Of  course  Theresa  knew  it.  Since  the  day  of 
Hugh  Maury's  acquittal  George  Bemish  had  been  a 
very  constant  visitor  at  Glencove. 

"  To  see  Theresa,"  Archibald  Murray  said  bitterly 
to  himself. 

"  To  see  the  girl  who  is  already  affianced  to  her 
cousin,"  Theresa  said,  as  bitterly  to  herself. 

"  To  see  that  dove-eyed  girl,  who,  when  her  year 
of  mourning  is  expired,  1  will  woo  as  never  man 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  op? 

wooed  maiden  before,"  George  Bemish  said  to  him 
self. 

Hetty  alone  saw  nothing  but  a  very  pleasant 
break  in  the  long,  quiet  days,  in  having  handsome 
George  Bemish  row  across  the  lake  to  play  croquet, 
or  to  take  her  out  upon  the  water,  or  to  sit  by  her  as 
she  prattled  as  she  never  had  prattled  since  the  days 
before  she  had  helped  "  defraud  her  cousin." 

Of  course  the  Glens  knew  all  about  his  plans  for 
Hugh  Maury. 

"  I  don't  doubt  it  would  be  beneficial,  but  he 
seems  very  happy  with  the  Bemishes,"  she  quietly 
answered. 

"  Yes,  happier  than  I  ever  saw  him  in  Virginia. 
Well,  Doctor  Bemish  Avants  me  to  come  and  keep 
house  for  him  while  Mr.  Bemish  and  Mr.  Maury  are 
in  Europe." 

"  And  you  would  like  that  ?" 

"  Immensely,  if  nothing  better  offered.  You 
know  I  simply  adore  Doctor  Bemish.  He  makes  me 
feel  like  a  bird  in  a  soft,  warm  nest." 

"  Then  something  better  has  offered  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  Cousin  Archie  wants  me  to  make  a  home 
for  him,"  Hetty  said  simply. 

The  shades  of  evening  were  falling  fast.  From 
beneath  the  hand  she  had  put  up  to  arrange  the 
short  curls  over  her  forehead  she  watched  Theresa 
Glen  furtively.  Her  quick  ear  caught  the  gasping 
breath,  her  keen  eyes  the  white-drawn  pain  in  the 
lovely  face  opposite  her.  It  was  Theresa  who 
presently  broke  the  silence. 

"  That,  then,  would  make  you  entirely  happy  ?" 


?98  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

"  I  am  not  so  sure.  That  arrangement,  too,  would 
nave  its  drawbacks." 

"  Drawbacks !" 

"Yes.  Cousin  Archie  might  get  married,  and 
then  where  would  I  be  ?" 

"  Married !     But— I  thought " 

Hetty  was  out  of  the  hammock  now,  and  kneeling 
down  close  by  Theresa,  she  flung  her  arms  about  her 
neck,  kissing  her  tumultuously. 

"Yes,  married!  What  would  I  do  when — oh, 
Thersie,  don't  let  us  all  go  on  playing  at  cross-pur 
poses  any  longer.  I  told  Cousin  Archie  to  drive 
back  this  way  after  he  had  seen  about  old  Mrs. 
Matthews'  '  bad  leg,'  and  I  would  tell  him  what 
you  advised  me  to  do.  I  see  him  getting  out  of  the 
buggy  now.  He  needs  some  one  to  make  a  home 
for  him,  sweet  lady,  but  it  is  not  Hetty.  Not  poor, 
little,  ridiculous,  childish  Hetty,  to  whom  he  never 
gave  a  thought  of  that  sort.  Do  you  suppose 
I  have  been  blind?"  A  shower  of  kisses  fell  on 
Theresa's  lips,  eyes  and  ears.  The  next  moment  she 
was  alone — alone  and  trying  to  hush  the  wild 
throbbing  of  a  heart  which  only  half  an  hour 
before  she  had  pronounced  as  well-regulated  as  a 
first-class  chronometer.  She  knew  Hetty  had  rushed 
away  after  that  storm  of  kisses,  leaving  her  white 
dress,  the  hammock  and  the  grass  strewn  with  the 
yellow  plumes  she  had  been  at  so  much  pains  to  cull 
from  the  golden-rod  along  the  route  of  her  drive. 

She  heard  some  one  breathing  near  her.  She 
would  not  open  her  eyes.  Some  one  took  the  hands 
that  she  had  pressed  to  their  quivering  lids  and 


A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE.  399 

softly  removed  them.  Some  one  knelt  by  her  side. 
She  opened  her  eyes  in  obedience  to  a  subtle  power 
she  could  no  longer  resist.  For  a  second  she  gazed 
mutely  in  Archibald  Murray's  eyes.  Then  in  a  slow, 
sweet,  far-away  voice  she  said  to  him : 

"  Once  before  I  opened  my  eyes  to  find  you  kneel 
ing  just  so  by  my  side.  Then,  as  now,  you  took  my 
hands  and  held  them  tenderly.  You  called  yourself 
my-  -» 

"  Lover !"  he  said,  taking  the  words  from  her  lips. 
"  Now,  as  then,  I  love  you.  Now  as  then,  I  would 
give  all  that  the  world  holds  to  call  you  mine. 
Hetty  sent  me  here.  My  wise,  sweet  little  cousin, 
who  claims  to  be  able  to  read  the  hearts  of  men  and 
maidens.  Hetty  promised  me  you  would  not  repulse 
me. 

"  She  says  I  am  all  astray  in  thinking  that  any 
one  has  a  better  right  to  speak  to  you  this  way  than 
I  have - 

"  Hugh  Maury !  Oh,  no,  no  !  He — we — I  was 
very  young,  and " 

"Not  Hugh  Maury — George  Bemish.  Has  he 
not  haunted  Glencove  ever  since  his  reappearance  ?" 

"Hetty  is  here!"  said  Theresa,  with  a  smile  of 
such  radiance  that  all  his  doubts  and  fears  melted 
before  it  like  snow  under  a  noonday  sun. 

"  And  you — oh,  Theresa  — 

He  stretched  out  his  arms  imploringly. 

"  I  am  yours — yours  in  very  truth.  Oh,  my  love, 
where  else  have  I  been  since  first  fate  brought  us 
face  to  face  ?" 

Hetty,  coming  out  upon  the  gallery  refreshed  and 


300  A  STRANGE  PILGRIMAGE. 

redressed  after  her  drive,  heard  a  murmur  of  voices 
out  there  in  the  hammock  which  made  her  smile  as 
she  said,  a  little  wistfully  : 

"  Dear,  dear  old  Archie !  Have  I  not  more  than 
compensated  for  driving  him  from  his  home  ?" 
Raising  her  voice  she  said,  in  mocking  tones  that 
reached  the  hammock  with  clearness  : 

"'If  you  have  anything  to  tell  me,  do  it  at  once, 
Hetty.  I  dare  not  stay  out  after  the  dew  begins  to 
fall.  I  am  getting  to  be  a  rickety  old  maid.' " 

Theresa  laughed,  and  giving  both  hands  to  Doctor 
Murray,  rose  from  the  hammock  and  walked  sub 
missively  toward  the  spot  where  the  laughing  girl 
stood  waiting  for  them. 

No,  he  would  not  go  in,  Archibald  said  ;  he  would 
only  wait  for  Hetty  to  tell  him  what  answer  he 
must  carry  back  to  Doctor  Bemish  that  evening,  he 
having  been  the  old  gentleman's  ambassador. 

"  Tell  him,"  said  Hetty,  "  that  I  am  going  back  to 
Virginia  to  keep  house  for  poor  old  Mr.  John  Rose. 
Tell  him,  though,  that  I  love  him,  dear  old  doctor, 
just  like  a  father." 

It  was  George  Bemish  who  crossed  the  lake  that 
same  evening  and  persuaded  Hetty  to  go  out  with 
him  under  the  full  flood  of  moonlight,  which  she  de 
clared  afterward  was  entirely  responsible  for  her 
sudden  change  of  programme,  and  used  such  persua 
sive  arguments  that  on  her  way  to  her  own  room, 
after  he  had  left  her,  she  stopped  at  Theresa's  door 
and  opened  it  just  wide  enough  to  say,  in  a  hissing 
whisper : 

"  Thersie,  I  have  changed  my  mind  1" 


.1   STRA  A  G  E  PILr.tt  nf,\  G  E.  301 

"Yes?" 

"  I  am  going  to  keep  house  for  Doctor  Bemish." 

"  Until  when  ?" 

"  Until  Geo — until  Mr.  Bemish  and  Mr.  Maury 
get  back  from  Europe." 

u  And  then «' 

"  We  will  all  keep  house  together,"  she  said,  with 
a  clear,  low  laugh,  that  ran  like  a  thread  of  sweet 
music  through  Theresa  Glen's  happy  reveries  that 
night. 

THH    END. 


